Just Like Romeo and Juliet
by btr2272
Summary: After what happened to his cousin, you'd think Benvolio would be the last person in fair Verona to fall in love. It seems Fate has a different idea.
1. Meeting

_Quick author's note. This is a fanfic of Baz Luhurman's Romeo and Juliet, in which the play is set in modern times. Which is why they have cars and guns. Also, in the play Gregory and Sampson are Montague servants, but they don't really say what they are in the movie. They just hang out with Benvolio. So I made them his brothers. Sue me. Oh, one last thing-in the play, there's a guy called Abraham who's a Capulet servant, but in the movie they change his name to Abra and just call him a Capulet. Just in case anyone gets confused about who he is while reading this._

_Edit:I recently turned in the first two chapters of this as an English assignment. Because of this, I removed some of the WAY more inappropriate stuff. And I stopped using the Old English. So, this chapter has been slightly revised, but not by much. Enjoy!_

He had never been in a real love. All he had ever been in was a pretend relationship, the false love people are in when all they want to do is have sex. For him, it was a different girl every week, and then he never saw her again. It wasn't love, it was sex. To him, there was nothing else. Love was just sadness in disguise.

That's why he had picked on his cousin so. Made fun of his love poems. Urged him to forget about love. Zoned out every time he started complaining about his lost love. He hadn't understood why his cousin was so obsessed with love, when, for him, love was hard. His cousin had never been able to find a girl to love him back. So why bother? But now, he knew why his cousin bothered. Because his cousin knew that, once you found love, you were the happiest person on earth and that love was the greatest thing in the world.

But then again, look what happened to him.

Everyone who was not already married or in a relationship was now afraid of love. Not just in his family, but in the girl's family as well. So he cursed love. Love had taken his cousin away. Why should anyone fall in love, after seeing how his cousin had ended up? If love was so grand, why was his cousin on that funeral pyre? If love was supposed to withstand time, heal all wounds, be the greatest treasure you could possibly own, _why was Romeo dead! _

Benvolio was angrier at his family than at love. If Montagues and Capulets could just be peaceful and forgive whatever had made them start feuding in the first place, Romeo and Juliet would have been able to love without having to hide it. Then they, and Mercutio, would not be dead now. That arrogant Prince of Cats would still be alive as well, but Benvolio was actually glad he was dead. He had always been for peace with the Capulets, but Tybalt was different. Tybalt liked hate, and violence, and started shooting at Montagues every chance he got. Benvolio couldn't help but hate him.

He was buried already, as well as Mercutio. And today, Benvolio found himself at the funeral for Romeo and Juliet. The families at least had the decency to bury them together. The ceremonies hadn't started yet, so the church hall buzzed with talking. Benvolio noticed that the Montagues and Capulets were not speaking with each other. The air was thick with tension. It was the first time all of the Montagues and Capulets had been in the same room with each other. Since it was a church, they had to be relatively peaceful, but Benvolio could see that Gregory was biting his thumb left and right.

Lord Montague and Lord Capulet both stood. The room instantly silenced.

"Because of our quarrel ages ago, many innocent lives have been taken." Lord Montague began.

"It has taken the death of my beloved daughter and his dear son to show us that this cannot go on." Lord Capulet continued.

"Henceforth, there shall be peace between all Montagues and all Capulets. On the morrow, we shall sign a peace treaty." Lord Montague announced.

Even though Benvolio was glad that there would be no more gun fights, he was also annoyed that they hadn't realized they needed peace _before _the lovers died. If he ever became Lord Montague (which was possible, since the current Lord Montague's son was now dead), he wouldn't be so blind-eyed to problems.

"And should any Capulet cause the end of a Montague life-" Lord Capulet began.

"Or any Montague bullet be found in a Capulet heart-" Lord Montague warned.

"Then the murderer will be disowned, exiled, and a Capulet or Montague no more." Lord Capulet looked to his enemy to see if he had anything left to say.

He did. "Many may not like this idea of peace, but it is for the better of all Montagues, Capulets, and the rest of our fair Verona's citizens."

The lords shook hands, then sat back down, and the priest finally arrived.

The mass ended, and people began to line up in front of the pyre to pay their respects. It didn't surprise Benvolio that people ignored the corpse that was of the opposite house. He didn't think that was very fair. They were married, and so both were kin to everyone in the room. But he supposed people wanted to ignore that detail as well.

When it was his turn, he found that a Capulet girl, a few years older than Juliet, was standing beside him. She glanced at him shyly, before kneeling in front of the pyre. He knelt down as well, and crossed himself. He wasn't one for prayer, and merely asked God to watch over the young lovers, wherever they were. He then stood and studied the bodies.

He had not been to Juliet's first funeral, of course, being a Montague, but he was probably correct if he said that one was better. Her hair was matted with blood, and there was a cloth strip around her head to cover the hole where the bullet had ended her life. She didn't look particularly peaceful either, she looked grief-stricken. Romeo had the look of someone who has just made the biggest mistake of their life. Benvolio shuddered when he noticed that his cousin' s eyes were still open. If you ignored their faces though, they looked like lovers who have just finished their night's activities and were now asleep in each others arms. But the eyes…

Benvolio reached out to close Romeo's eyes, when another hand touched his. He had not noticed the girl beside him stand. She withdrew her hand, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, but bodies with open eyes frighten me." She apologized, blushing.

"It's alright. I don't like them either. It seems rude not to let them sleep." He told her.

"Very rude." She sighed. "It's also rude to respect one and not the other."

"Same here. They both deserve our respect." Benvolio reached out again to close his cousin's eyes. But he paused, suddenly frightened of the body. It looked alive. As if any second now, Romeo would sit up and start reciting his poetry. He looked away and quickly closed the eyes.

"She was my favorite cousin." The girl said suddenly.

"And he was mine." Benvolio gave a small nod.

"He must have been quite a man, for Juliet to die for his love." She mused.

"And she must have been quite a woman." He smiled grimly at her.

"Benvolio, you're holding up the line!" Sampson pushed him out of the way.

Benvolio shrugged at the girl and walked off to the Montague side of the room. That girl had seemed rather nice. He would have liked to keep talking to her, but Sampson was right, they had been holding up the line. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt. He looked over his shoulder. It was the girl.

"Benvolio, was it?" she asked.

"Yes. But you shouldn't be speaking with me." He pushed her hand off of him and continued walking.

She followed him. "We're at peace now, I can talk to any Montague I wish!"

"Your mother won't be happy if she sees thou with me." Why was he making excuses not to talk to her? He had wanted to, so why was he pushing her away? He didn't understand his actions.

"My mother doesn't care about me." She stood in front of him defiantly, head held high. "Juliet was her goddaughter, and she loved Juliet more than me. She told me, when she first heard Juliet was dead, that she wished it had been me instead." She swallowed, and Benvolio thought he saw tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I don't understand why you're telling me this. All you know about me is my name!" Benvolio said, exasperated.

"No, you're wrong. Tybalt talked much of you. True, what he said was not exactly pleasant, but I know you're peaceful towards Capulets, and don't fight unless there is no other way. And, by what you have said, you seem to be a compassionate person." She stared at him, waiting to see what he said.

"You still shouldn't be talking to me. Someone will see us, and someone will get upset." He ran his hand through his hair. "But I would like to speak with you."

"You wish for me to not get in trouble. You are a gentleman." She smirked, raising her eyebrow.

"No. I'm not a gentleman." Benvolio stared at his feet, thinking about how he had spent the entire mass thinking about something very sinful.

"Marietta!" Abra marched over and grabbed her arm. "Why are you talking to this piece of filth?"

"I was not talking with your lady. I was telling her to go back to her own side. And if I am a piece of filth, you are a whole sewer full." Benvolio spat before turning and walking away.

Some people couldn't change, no matter what rules you enforced. Benvolio suddenly realized that the whole time he had been talking to her, he had not acted like a jerk. That was a first. Why had he done that?

He told himself it was because he was too worried about her being on the Montague side to check her out. That he had been looking out for her, and that guardian angels don't screw with the people they're protecting. He told himself that, but he didn't believe it. Why suddenly change the way you are, for no reason? And while he was asking himself questions, why did his stomach feel funny? And why did he feel lonely all of a sudden?

Maybe Romeo's death was catching up with him. Maybe this was all the product of grief. Maybe he was just feeling sick, from sadness, worry, getting no sleep…He could not handle this overshadowing love and death. And he could not stand the glares the Capulet side of the room was giving him.

Was it so wrong to speak with a lady? So wrong to worry about a girl? Why must they glare? Why must they curse? He retreated to a corner of the church and stayed there until Sampson came and told him it was time to go.

* * *

"Gregory, pick a station!" Benvolio cried. His younger brother payed him no mind and continued pressing the buttons on the radio. "I can't drive if you keepschanging the station!"

"I'm looking for a good song!" Gregory insisted.

Benvolio sighed angrily and turned his focus back to the road. Sometimes he wondered if he was adopted, because his brothers, in his opinion, were nothing like him.

"So, Benvolio." Sampson leaned forward. "Who was that pretty thing you were talking to yesterday?"

"A Capulet." He grunted.

"Oooh…" the other two howled.

"He's going for richer women now!" Gregory laughed.

"Hey, we're at peace! Capulet ladies are now fair game!" Sampson crowed, and the two high-fived.

"When is you plannin' on screwin' her?" Gregory asked.

"Can I talk to a girl without having any intention of jumping her bones!" Benvolio cried, getting annoyed.

"You? No!" Gregory shook his head.

"Since when have you had a normal conversation with a girl?" Sampson wondered.

"Well, I did yesterday." Benvolio told them.

"I get it! It's disrespectful to talk about sex in church, right?" Gregory guessed.

"Maybe he's giving up sex for Lent!" Sampson joked.

"Oh! Maybe he's decided to be a priest!" Gregory teased.

They laughed. Benvolio narrowed his eyes. He loved his brothers, but sometimes he just wanted to kill them. This was one of those times. He swerved his car over to the side of the road. "Get out!"

"Hey, Benvolio, we were just playing around." Sampson said.

"Out!" Benvolio leaned over and opened the passenger door. "Get out of my car!"

They sulked and climbed out. "But how are we supposed to get home?" Gregory asked.

"Take the bus." Benvolio drove away. Not surprisingly, when he looked in his rearview mirror at them, both were biting their thumb. He usually would have laughed along with them, but for some reason it was different this time. So what if he had acted like a gentleman yesterday? Why did people have to get on his case like that? He felt mad all over again. What was wrong with him? Why was he taking this so seriously?

He pulled into an empty parking lot. He hated feeling confused. This last week had been Hell, and he had the feeling that, even with peace, things were going to get worse before they got better.

What he didn't know was that it would be his fault.

"Benvolio!"

God, didn't they get the idea that he didn't want to talk with them! He turned in his seat, ready to yell at them, but it wasn't his brothers. It was her.

She was walking towards him, a book in one hand. He suddenly realized he didn't know her name. But she spoke first.

"Hello." She greeted him.

"Hello." He replied, stunned. "Sorry, but I don't know the name of the lady I'm speaking with."

"Marietta." She told him.

"Are you following me?" he asked.

"No!" she laughed. "Can't a person say hello?"

"We are of different houses. We shouldn't be saying hello." Stupid, stupid, STUPID! Why did he keep making that excuse! Why couldn't he just _talk_ to her! What was he so afraid of?

"You said you wanted to speak with me." Marietta reminded him. "I saw you, and thought we could talk now. There are not a thousand Capulet eyes watching you back."

"You are far too clever." He grinned at her.

"Not clever. Just observant." She tapped the side of her eye. "Come, there is a café up the street. Have a drink with me."

He hesitated. What was the harm in talking? He had a civilized conversation with her yesterday, he was having one with her now. He wasn't going to a nightclub to get drunk and find some whore to spend the night with. He was going to a café, in broad daylight, with a girl who wanted to talk with him. But it wasn't a date. No, definitely _not_ a date.

Was it?

"Benvolio…" she begged, smiling. "Come on!"

And, not sure why, he felt he could not refuse her. So, he put his thoughts aside, got out of the car, and they headed off.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about the lady I'm talking with." He told her.

"You know my name, my house, my feelings towards my mother…" she ticked them off on her fingers. "What else do you wish to know?"

"I don't know. Favorite color?" he asked, shrugging.

"Blue. What about you?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Blue as well." He gave her a nod.

"Ah, we have something in common." They arrived at the café. "Here we are."

In a few moments, they seated outside the café. She was drinking a milkshake, while he sipped an Irish coffee.

"Um…doesn't that have alcohol in it?" she pointed at his drink.

"Yes." He wondered what she was getting at.

"Well…don't you have to drive home later?" she asked pointedly.

Oh. She didn't want him driving while intoxicated. Well, he'd gotten wasted at plenty of parties and made it home fine. Usually. "I won't have too many."

"Hmm." She fiddled with her straw. "Were your kinsmen the ones you threw out of your car?"

He covered his face and gave a good-natured groan. "You saw that?"

"It was how I knew it was you." She glanced at the street, then did a double take. "Oh no."

"What?" He followed her gaze.

An all-too-familiar black car was coming down the street. It slowed as it passed the café, the driver obviously scrutinizing them. Marietta sank in her seat. It seemed forever before the vehicle passed them by. She buried her face in her hands and sighed.

He didn't have to look at the license plate to know who it was. "Abra."

"He's going to confront me when he next sees me. I hate him." She shook her head, sighing again.

"He is your cousin's best friend. I have reason to hate him, but you don't." He pointed out.

"Godbrother." She murmured.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"Godbrother." She took her hands from her face and looked away. "Tybalt was my godbrother."

"Oh." He occupied himself with stirring his coffee.

Both were silent for a moment. "He was very protective of me." Marietta said suddenly, turning her gaze back to him. "We were inseparable as children. When he learned Abra fancied taking me for a wife, he told him that I would not wed Abra as long as he was alive. Not that Tybalt's gone…" she trailed off for a second. "Well, Abra thinks he has rights to me. As if I was his property."

He found it hard to believe that Tybalt could have been that protective of anyone but himself. But the waver in her voice as she spoke showed she was not lying. He waited to see if she had anything left to say.

She did. "I know you hated Tybalt, and I don't blame you. Tybalt was a different person when it came to Montagues." She smiled at him apologetically. "I'm sorry. Every time we talk I end up telling you about my troubles."

"It's alright. We've all had a rough week. We've both lost people who were important to us." He patted her hand. Was…was she blushing? He pulled him hand away, embarrassed.

"Enough sadness. Tell me about you." She sipped her drink, eyebrows raising.

"Do you always do that?" he wondered.

"Do what?" she asked, puzzled.

"Raise your eyebrows. You tend to do that quite a lot." He pointed out.

She felt her eyebrows. "I didn't notice. Force of habit, I suppose."

Smiling, he found himself saying, "You look cute when you do it." Shit! Why had he said that! "I mean…" he tried to think of someway to get off this topic. She was blushing furiously. Her whole face had turned red. She was as uncomfortable with this statement as he was. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's alright…" she looked down at her drink. "So…you were going to tell me about yourself?"

"Right. What do you want to know?" he asked.

And so they talked. Benvolio, though still embarrassed about his earlier statement, felt he had never enjoyed anyone's company this much. But by the time the sun was sinking behind the ocean and they had both had about four drinks (Marietta seemed to glare at him each time he got another one) he knew that something about this was wrong. He just couldn't place it, but something didn't feel right.

She glanced at her watch and gave a small shriek. "Ah! I should have been home an hour ago!" she stood, dug some money out of her pocket and laid it on the table. "Sorry, but I have to go."

"When can we talk again?" he blurted out. He seemed to be saying everything he shouldn't today. But what was wrong with asking that? He felt so confused.

She paused. "Tomorrow, here, three o'clock."

He grinned. "Alright."

"Good-bye!" she said, walking away.

"Good-bye!" he called after her. And there it was, that lonely feeling. And he still felt something had been wrong. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel this way?

And then he realized. This was exactly what Romeo had always talked about. Loneliness when his love was away. A fast-beating heart, a longing to be near them. All were signs. Why hadn't he noticed it before? That's why he had been taking everything so seriously. That's why he'd gone to talk with her, though he knew it was dangerous. That's why he felt so strange.

"Oh God." He whispered. "I'm falling in love."


	2. Hurt

…_Yeah, it's been entirely too long, and I apologize. Whole-heartedly. Life's been one hell of a ride since I first posted it. Projects, HSAs, band trips, plays and the like. Sorry. I do not own 'Accidentally in Love' by Counting Crows. Just thought I'd share. _

He was well aware of the fact that he was intoxicated. Five Irish coffees will do that to you. Or was it six? No matter, he was still drunk. He was also aware that driving in his condition was a very bad idea, but as he usually did, he pushed that thought aside as he stumbled down the street to the lot where his car was.

He had realized after his fifth (sixth?) cup that he wasn't in love with Marietta, the first four had made him think that. As for yesterday, that had been grief. No, he wasn't in love. Not in the slightest.

He was hardly a foot into the still-empty lot when someone grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall. After the stars clouded from his already-clouded vision, he was able to make out Abra's face staring at his.

"Stay away from her." Abra growled.

"Away from who?" he asked stupidly.

Abra slammed him against the wall again. His head banged against the hard brick. Tears of pain welled up in his eyes. He hated to fight, but there seemed to be no way out of this one. It didn't help that he was drunk.

"Oh." The world continued to spin. "Her."

"Yes. Her." Abra sneered.

"What about her?" he blinked up at Abra.

"Stay away from her!" Abra shouted. He pressed a gun to Benvolio's forehead.

Benvolio gulped. Even with his impaired senses, he knew that this was getting out of hand. But, being drunk, instead of trying to get out of the situation, he tried to act tough.

"Wouldn't do you much good to kill me." He said, smiling.

"If it gets you away from her, it does." Abra hissed, pressing harder.

"If you're in exile, you won't be near her." Benvolio pointed out.

"If you're dead, neither will you." Abra smirked.

"I'd prefer to stay breathing, thanks." He nodded and tried to move away, but Abra pinned him.

"So, you want to be like your cousin and die for the love of a Capulet maiden?" Abra's face was inches from his.

"I don't love women." Benvolio pushed Abra away from him. "I screw them."

"Then you believe that peace means you can screw Capulets?" Abra pushed him back.

"I don't _want_ to screw her!" Benvolio exclaimed.

"I don't care!" Abra shoved him to the ground. Standing over Benvolio, he pointed his gun at Benvolio. "Stay away from her."

"I'll stay away." Benvolio stared up at the gun. "But I can't guarantee she will."

Abra gave a yell and kicked him in the side, before grabbing his collar and kneeing him in the groin. Benvolio fell to the ground. Abra's kicks battered him, but he made no move to stop him. He was too tired, too drunk to care. Besides, he deserved this. He should have known better than to engage in conversation with a Capulet. Especially one with a persistent suitor.

"Perhaps now you'll remember to keep your love to yourself." Abra kicked him one last time, than turned and walked away.

"I don't love her." Benvolio whispered. Abra's steps faded. He felt a drop of rain on his head. The sun had set long ago. "I don't love her." He said, louder. The drops fell faster, soaking him where he lay. He sat up slowly. "I don't love her!" he screamed. He stumbled to his feet, realizing that most of the drops on his face were from tears. No matter how many times he said it, no matter how many excuses he made, he did love her. And by loving her, he had condemned himself.

He listened to his conscience this time when it told him driving was a bad idea. So he climbed into the backseat of his car and tried to get comfortable, knowing he would have a rather large headache in the morning.

* * *

"Montague." 

Benvolio opened one eye slowly. Prince stood over him. "Oh shit…" Benvolio muttered, trying to sit up. Instantly he had a headache.

"It was reported that there was a brawl here last night. Were you involved?" the prince asked.

"Yes." Benvolio squinted up at him. Wow, the sun was bright. "I was drunk."

"It was a simple tavern brawl?" Prince questioned.

"You could call it that…" he replied, rubbing his head.

"Do you remember who was involved?"

Benvolio shifted uncomfortably. If he named Abra, he might be punished for fighting with a Capulet when there was peace. But, it wasn't so much of a brawl as being jumped. "Abra."

"Just him?" the Prince asked, taking notes.

"Yeah." He winced. He had just discovered a large cut on his forehead.

"Were any guns fired?" Prince continued.

"No, but he put his to my head." Benvolio wanted to go back to sleep. Badly.

Prince scrutinized him. "I suggest you find a doctor. Good day." He nodded and waled away.

Benvolio watched him go before flopping back down into the car. He could go to a doctor later. Right now, he wanted to sleep.

"Benvolio!"

Well, so much for that idea.

His mother's face appeared over the side of his car. She gave him a stern look. He shrugged and sat back up.

"He jumped me. I didn't even fight back." Benvolio told her.

"Your uncle won't be pleased." Anna Montague gently touched the cut on her son's forehead. He hissed in pain and pushed her hand away.

"What do they care? It's their fault we had all those fights in the first place." Benvolio replied.

She ignored this statement. "Your aunt and uncle are concerned that you aren't…Lord Montague material. With your cousin dead, and you now being the heir to the Montague estates…"

"I don't pick fights." Benvolio muttered. "The fights pick me."

"I know, Benny."

"Don't call me that."

"You may be twenty-one years old, but you're still my son." Anna sighed. "But the fact is that they don't have any faith in you. They think you're not responsible. Thing is, all they want is Romeo and you're nothing like him. So be prepared for them to give you a hard time, okay, Benny?"

"Ma!" He exclaimed. This was giving him a headache. Not that he didn't have one already. He was different. So what? Couldn't they accept that? All his life his aunt and uncle had wanted him to be somebody else, somebody like…Romeo. Romeo was dead. He was alive. They were going to have to live with what they had left, and that was him.

"Fine, I won't call you Benny. Yeesh. Now, let's get you to a doctor." His mother said.

He yawned and climbed out of the car, holding onto the side as a wave of nausea swept over him. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

She idly leafed through her book as she sat at the bottom of the stairs. Her mother was crying again. As much as she disliked her mother, she hated to see her cry. She knew that once her mother started crying she would find some wine to console her, which would mean she would tipsy for the rest of the day. Marietta, out of habit, reached out to grab the telephone and dial Juliet's number. But she froze when she remembered that Juliet was dead. Well, maybe Tybalt could provide…but he was dead, too. 

Tybalt was four years older than she, and she was three years older than Juliet. As children, they had spent many afternoons in the courtyard of one of their mansions, pretending to be a valiant knight, a damsel in distress, a powerful sorcerer. They had swam in Juliet's pool, read stories in her library, begged for food from Tybalt's cook, and had adventure after adventure.

But when Tybalt turned fifteen, things began to change. Poisoned thoughts infiltrated his mind, turning him from a kind and gentle teenager to a Montague hating man. He stopped hanging out with them and started learning how to use a gun with his new best friend, Abra. The girls had been very angry with him, and had made quite a few plans to get back at him. Then his parents had died in a car crash, and he had become even hateful. If the girls so much as tapped him on the shoulder him, he would lash out. But occasionally, he went back to who he had once been. Especially when the whole Abra-wanting-to-marry-her situation had come up. The girls still missed the old days, when they could all talk together and play, but there was nothing they could do. Tybalt had changed, and they had not.

And now her cousins, her two best friends, the other two Musketeers, were dead. She had never felt any more lonely than she did now. Except…except when she was with Benvolio. Then, she didn't feel quite so lonely. Was it wrong to fall in love after knowing someone for two days? Well, Juliet had married Romeo after knowing him for about twelve hours.

Ugh. Thinking about marriage made her think about Abra, and about how her mother was disgraced that she was seventeen and not yet a bride. Every day looked bleaker and bleaker, and it seemed as if she would marry Abra whether she wanted to or not.

The doorbell rang, jolting Marietta out of her dismal thoughts. Though it really was the servants job to answer the door, she answered it, mostly because she was right there. Prince stood on her doorstep.

"Is the Capulet called Abra here?" he asked.

"I haven't seen him. Why?" she wondered.

"He and a Montague got into a fight." He said, seeming distracted.

"Was the Montague a man called Benvolio?" Marietta felt her stomach tighten.

"Yes." Prince glanced around. "If you see Abra, send word. Good day." He left.

Marietta shut the door slowly. So, Abra had confronted Benvolio. What had he told him? Probably that she was his and to stop talking to her. Did that mean that she would not be seeing him at three o'clock? There was no way to tell. She would just have to go and see is he showed up. She walked out of the foyer quickly, thinking.

She was absorbed in her thoughts and did not notice that she had entered the courtyard, nor did she notice that someone was standing in her path. She collided with him, tumbling to the floor. Abra stood over her.

"Hello." He said, smirking.

"Prince is looking for you." She said, standing up.

"That's no way to greet a suitor." He replied.

"You are not my suitor." She looked at him. "What did you do to him?"

"I taught him a lesson." Abra shrugged. "You have a suitor, you don't need another one."

"You think that you own me. I am not yours, I never have been. I'll pick my suitors, and you are not one of them!" she snapped.

"You may think that, but in the end, you will be my bride." He leaned in, face inches from hers.

"I will die before marrying you!" she hissed.

"You wish to pull a Juliet and kill yourself before becoming a bride?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Don't use her name like that!" She cried, and before she knew what she was doing, she had slapped him.

He slowly opened his eyes and turned to her. His eyes were twin pits of Hell, showing rage she had never seen. She backed away, slowly, knowing that he, like Tybalt, had a short temper.

"Bitch." He said in a low voice. "You shouldn't have raised your hand. And it doesn't matter what you think or feel. But…" she saw his eyes scan her body, stopping on her chest. "I don't need marriage to get half of what I want…"

Before she could say or do anything, he had lunged for her and had her pinned against the wall. His hands were on her throat, strangling her. His knee forced its way between her legs. She clawed at his hands, struggling to breathe.

"Perhaps you don't know of my half of Tybalt's bargain. He may have told you that he ordered me not to wed you as long as he was alive, but he told me something else. He said if I gave him money once a month, I could have you at some point. Since he's dead, I figure now is that "some point". So, if you look at it one way…I own you. You are mine to do whatever I want with." He took one of his hands off her throat and reached for her shirt.

"Marietta!"

He cursed and glared at her. "We'll finish this later." He let go of he and stepped back. She gasped, gently touching her neck. Without warning, his hand flew back and he struck on the side of her face. The force of the blow knocked her head against the wall.

"You didn't think you would leave unscathed." He sneered, turning and leaving.

So, that would be her life. If she married him, it would be constant abuse. Black and blue all over her body. Was that all men did? Hit you when you did something wrong, when they didn't get their way? She had seen her father hit her mother once, when she was little. She had hid behind the stair railing and winced at every blow her mother received. Marietta didn't want her life to be like that.

"Marietta?"

Her mother was suddenly beside her. "What happened to your face?"

She let out a sob. It hurt her bruised throat. How could she tell her? Her mother might have also been hit, but that didn't mean she would tell Abra to stay away. Her mother would probably say it was part of being a wife. So why bother? Marietta ran from the courtyard, tears streaming down her face. Perhaps Juliet had had the right idea, with faking death to escape. True, she was not even promised to Abra yet, but she soon would be, if he had his way.

And she wasn't lying when she said she would rather die.

* * *

It was against his better judgment that he went to the café at three o'clock. But if he didn't go, she might think he stood her up or something. And an angry woman was the last thing he needed. 

He knew something was wrong as soon as he saw her coming up the street. She had her head down, with her hair hiding her face. The other times he had seen her, her hair had been up. Perhaps she just felt like wearing it down, but it seemed to him that she was trying to conceal something on her face. She was about three feet away from him when she glanced up. Her face broke into a grin and he got a glimpse of something on her right cheek, but she tilted her head so her hair covered it.

"I thought that maybe you wouldn't come." She seemed to notice the stitches on his forehead. She rushed to get a closer look, and her hair fell back. He almost gasp at the sight of a huge bruise that covered her entire right cheek. There were quite a few bruises on her neck as well.

"You're hurt!" they both cried in unison.

Marietta ducked her head, trying to hide it yet again. "I'll be fine. But what about you?" she gently touched the stitches. He winced. She withdrew her hand and looked at her feet. "I hate Abra."

He was taken aback. "How did you know he did it?"

"Prince came looking for him, and told me." She brought her hand to her neck and closed her eyes momentarily.

"Abra did that to you, didn't he?" Benvolio murmured, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ears.

"It doesn't matter." She pushed his hand away.

"It does to me." He found himself saying. She looked up at him, surprised. It was his turn to look away, embarrassed.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Marietta sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Is it safe to say that the both of us have had a long day?"

"Oh yeah. A very long day." He nodded.

"I don't really feel like sitting down. Can we walk by the beach?" she asked suddenly.

"Whatever my lady wishes." He grinned and offered her his arm.

"Thank you, good sir." She linked arms with him and they were off.

It was rather dangerous, to be walking in public, arm-in-arm. If someone should see, both of them would be punished. But they forgot about the risks as they walked along, chatting idly. As they neared the Grove theatre, Benvolio reached out and pushed her hair away from her face. She gave him a questioning glance before moving to push it back.

"Please don't." he hadn't meant to sound pleading, but he did. "I want to see your pretty face."

"Nonsense." She pretended his words had not sent her heart into an enjoyable flutter. "This bruise is huge, and ugly."

"Your face is beautiful even with your injury." He assured her, almost whispering.

She paused. "No one's ever said that before."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"No one's ever told me I look pretty." She smiled sadly. "Not my mother, not my father, not anyone."

"Surely your divine suitor must compliment your features." He said with a mocking air.

She snorted. "Abra? He only wants two things. My money, and…" she faltered. Blushing, she mumbled, "and other parts of my body." Both were silent for a moment, before she blurted out, "Do you think of me as your property? A piece of land to be bought and sold?"

He looked at her, startled. "Why would I think that?"

She sighed. "Everyone else does."

He took his arm out of hers and put it around her shoulders. "I don't."

"You insist you're not a gentleman, but I think you're wrong." She smiled shyly.

There was a loud twang from somewhere in front of them. They looked up to the stage. A band, consisting of three girls, stood upon the stage. The guitarist appeared to be tuning.

"Hello!" Marietta called, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun.

The guitarist looked up. "Hello!"

"Are you about to rehearse?" she asked.

"Yeah. Our mom kicked us out of our garage, so we had to come here." The guitarist plucked another string.

"Would you mind if we listened?" Marietta gave him a glance. He nodded. He would enjoy a free concert.

"Sure. We never get and audience." She turned to look at the other band members, who voiced their agreement.

Marietta ran to the first row of seats, Benvolio following, studying the band.

"Does your band have a name?" he wondered.

"The Storytellers. Creative, eh?" she raised her eyebrows, plucking another string.

"You're a rock band, am I right?" Marietta sat down, looking up at the band with wide eyes.

"At the moment, yes." She smiled. "Hi. I'm Bernadette. The drummer over there is Catherine-" Catherine waved. "-and the bass is Irene." Irene gave a nod.

"I'm Marietta, and he's Benvolio." She jerked her thumb at him. He was still walking down to the front row.

Bernadette gave them strange looks. "I may be wrong, but aren't you a Capulet, and he's a Montague?"

"You didn't see us together." Benvolio said sternly, seating himself beside Marietta.

"Aye, aye sir!" Bernadette gave a mock salute. She glanced over her shoulder at her sisters. "Art thou ready to rocketh?"

They gave their nods, and she turned back around. "Ah-one, ah-two, ah-one two three four!" They started playing.

"They don't sound too bad." Benvolio said.

"They sound better than some of the people on the radio." Marietta replied.

"_So she said 'What's the problem, baby?'. What's the problem? I dunno. Well, maybe I'm in love. Love, think about it, every time I think about it, can't stop thinkin' 'bout it."_

"Thank you." Marietta said so softly he could hardly hear her over the music.

"For what?" he asked.

_"How much longer will it take to cure this ?Just to cure it, cause I can't ignore it. This is love! Love, makes me wanna turn around and face me, but I don't know nothin' 'bout love."_

"For being so kind to me. I was beginning to think there were no kind people left." She smiled sadly.

"Well, I…I care about you." He felt nervous all of a sudden.

She gave him a funny look. "What are you saying, Benvolio?"

"I…I'm saying…" he fidgeted. This was possibly the scariest moment of his life. "I'm saying…I love you."

There was a silence between them, with nothing but the music (something about strawberry ice cream) behind them. She stared at the ground, as if in a trance. Benvolio wanted to shake her and make say something, anything. Just not this silence. Suddenly she looked up at him.

He hadn't realize how close their faces were.

_"Come on, come on, move a little closer. Come on, come on, wanna hear you whisper."_

"I love you, too." She murmured. And then she leaned her head back and their lips met.

And all time stopped. For to Benvolio, there was no one in the world but him and her, together. Nothing else mattered but her. Nothing.

_"We're accidentally in love…"_

Romeo was probably the wisest person who had ever walked the earth. He had known. He had known what love was like. If it was always this great, if it was always this wonderful-it was worth dying for.

Dying for.

He suddenly saw the both of them, dead, in a tomb. If they did this, if he loved her, they might die. Capulets and Montagues couldn't do this, couldn't love. He wanted so badly to love her-but he didn't want to be like them.

He gently pushed her away. She gave him a questioning glance. "I-I love you, Marietta, but…" he hated the look on her face. She was about to cry, and it broke his heart to see her like that. "If we're not careful…if we love each other…we could end up just like Romeo and Juliet."

She took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. "I-I understand. Really, I do. I've-I've thought about that, and-and you're right." She stood up. "I should go now." She ran away, and Benvolio could tell she was crying. He felt like crying himself.

"Damn."

He whirled around, suddenly aware of the band. They were witnesses. She and him had been together-and there were people who could prove it. He would have panicked if he wasn't so upset.

Bernadette must have sensed this, for she shook her head. "Not a word, m'lord. Secret's safe."

That made him feel better. He turned to look at Marietta's retreating form. She was still, her shoulders shaking as she wept.

"A smart move, m'lord, but not a happy one." Bernadette mused. She gave her guitar a strum. "But sometimes you gotta be cruel to be kind."

"Bern, shut up." Catherine snapped.

"I'm thinking aloud! Is that such a crime?" Bernadette replied angrily.

Benvolio couldn't help but chuckle. They were like him and his brothers. "No, keep arguing, it's making me feel better."

"Ah, we would, but sadly we were instructed to be home by four-thirty. And seeing as how it's now four o'clock, we should be going. And you should too." Bernadette shooed him away.

He began to leave. Marietta was nowhere to be seen. He walked back to his car, feeling slightly better, but still upset. He wanted to be with her-he wanted nothing else-but he had seen what had happened to his cousin. If you saw that, wouldn't you be afraid of love? He couldn't have both things he wanted. He couldn't love Marietta and stay alive. Peace meant you could walk down the street without getting shot at, it didn't mean you could love the enemy. Or the ex-enemy, if you looked at it that way. There was nothing either of them could do except stay away.

Perhaps it was written in the stars that this was to happen. Perhaps Fate had willed it. Perhaps God had a sense of humor. Well, they could beat Fate, they could change the stars, they could laugh at God. They would live, though it would break their hearts.

Or, so it seemed to Benvolio. However, love works in mysterious ways. And Fate had quite a different plan for our young lovers, though they did not know it. A course of events had now been put into action, and Fate simply had to stand back and watch.


	3. Warning

_Hullo. Todaywas my last day of school, so updates should be frequent from now on. Feel free to cheer. This was an exceptionally sappy chapter. I'm sorry, please excuse the fluff, but it was necessary. I don't own 'As Long as You're Mine' from the Broadway musical 'Wicked'. Oh, and Tonyboy-If it's the one I'm thinking of, then yes, I've seen it. We watched the "old version" in English class. I don't know who starred in it. _

For three days Benvolio sulked in his room, only coming out to eat. He refused to go anywhere else, should he see her. He could tell his parents were worried and his brothers annoyed, but he didn't really care. He shut himself up, reliving that afternoon in his head, thinking about what he could have done, what he should have said, and the look on her face as she walked away. And he felt…terribly…_lonely_. In all his life, he had never felt lonely. Not lonely like this. This sudden feeling of having half of you missing. He missed her so much, and often wondered if she felt the same as him.

On his fourth day of mourning, his mother barged into his room, intent on making him get out of the house. Naturally, Benvolio was not pleased with this intrusion nor her intent.

"You are acting like your cousin before he died!" she exclaimed.

He was sitting in front of his window, leaning on the windowsill, longing for her. He glanced at his mother over his shoulder before turning back. "I've been having a bad week."

"Benvolio, you can't keep yourself cooped up in here! Everyone is sad, but life goes on!" She got no response from him. She sighed, sitting down on his bed. "They're making us throw a party."

He turned in his chair to look at her. "Who?"

"Your aunt and uncle." Anna rolled her eyes. "I hate throwing parties, but they feel the need to have one in October. A costume ball. They're still upset over Romeo…and I suppose they feel that perhaps planning this party will make them forget their problems. Except they want to have it here, so I have to help with all the planning."

"Have fun." He said sarcastically, about to turn around again.

Anna caught his arm. "Benvolio…please go into to town for me. They want to use a recipe our cook doesn't have, and apparently it's in this book." She held out a slip of paper. "Please, can you get it for me?"

Benvolio looked at his mother, then out the window, then back to his mother. "I…" Maybe he wouldn't see her. Maybe Marietta wouldn't be in town. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He weighed it in his mind. Fresh air, it might do him good. Make him forget for a little while. "Alright." He told her, taking the paper.

"Oh. Um, there's one other thing…" Anna ran her hand through her hair, not looking at him. "Your brothers…they, um…they sort of…"

"Mom. Just say it." Benvolio reached for his keys on his dresser. Except his keys weren't there. He stared at his mother. "What did they do?"

Anna took a deep breath. "Your brothers took your car."

* * *

Benvolio decided within the fifteen-minute ride into to town that he absolutely _hated_ buses. They smelled, for one. And they had loads of weird people riding them. Like the bag lady a few seats in front of him that kept staring. And the girl across from him who was undoubtedly a man. He sank lower in his seat, trying to disappear. He had actually put a real shirt on today, instead of his usual Hawaiian ones. Along with the jeans jacket, baseball cap, and sunglasses, he sort of blended in. But then again, the bus was full of transvestites and homeless people. He was the only normal person on this thing. 

He was very glad when the bus got to his stop, though the man dressed as a girl had blown him a kiss as he left. He leaned against the small bookstore, breathing the fresh air. He decided to hate his brothers as well as buses. It was their fault. "Take my car, make me go on that freaky bus, buy this stupid book…" he grumbled as he opened the door to the shop and went in. They were dead meat when he got home. _Dead meat. _And if they did anything to his car, he would personally rip their guts out and throw them in the ocean. But he'd worry about killing them later. He removed his sunglasses and started looking at the shelves.

Benvolio had little experience with bookstores, so he didn't really notice that the rows of books were in categories. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that the cookbooks were occupying two shelves in the far right corner of the bookstore. But he wasn't paying attention, because a figure caught his eye.

Marietta stood between two rows of books in front of him, completely absorbed in whatever she was reading. Benvolio ducked behind the row she stood in front of, completely forgetting about the cookbook, about how they were supposed to stay away, about everything. He was just glad to see her. He leaned on a shelf, peering between them at her. She turned the page, her brow furrowing. She then marked the spot with her finger and read the summary on the back. Apparently something confused her. Benvolio read the title, 'Wuthering Heights'. Her brow remained furrowed as she went back to reading, though she began to chew on a piece of her hair. Benvolio watched intently, every movement captivating him. Did she realize how beautiful she was?

Had anyone ever told her she was beautiful?

Suddenly, Marietta closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. In doing so, she glanced upward, and saw two eyes gazing at her between the shelves. She gave a quiet shriek, stumbling backwards. Benvolio also jumped back, startled because she'd seen him.

"Marietta?" he said timidly, returning to the crack between shelves.

She searched his eyes for some hint of recognition. "Benvolio?"

He grinned. "Hello."

"You scared me!" she scolded gently. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I…" Why was he here, exactly? Then he remembered. "I have to buy a cookbook for my mom."

"Well, this is the Classics section. You want to be in the Cooking section." She pointed in the direction.

He laughed. "I'm so lost. I really have no clue what I'm doing."

"I'll help you." She said. She walked out from between the rows, and he did the same. They met in front of one, and Benvolio handed her the slip of paper with the title on it. Marietta took it and began navigating him through the bookstore.

"Your bruise looks better." He commented.

She touched it lightly, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Thanks. Um, when do you get your stitches out?"

"Sometime next week, I think." He replied.

She stopped walking and stared at the row in front of them. A look of concentration settled on her face as her eyes darted from book to book. She glanced down at the paper, then walked forward a few steps. She bent down and plucked a book from the bottom shelf. She smiled, handing it to him. "Here you go."

He took it, his hand brushing against hers. "Thanks." There was an awkward silence between them. "Well…I guess I better go now."

She nodded in agreement. "I have to head over to the theater."

Not speaking, the unhappy silence looming over their heads like a cloud, Benvolio paid for the book and they walked out of the store. Benvolio noticed Marietta wince a few times. Was something wrong?

"See you later, Benvolio." She said, trying to look nonchalant about it, but he could tell she was as sad as he was.

"See you." He echoed softly, watching her go. She was walking very stiffly, and every few steps she would wince. Her skirt swished around her ankles, and he caught a glimpse of white on one of her feet. She was hurt! But he couldn't do anything, he was supposed to be staying away. But…

Keeping his distance, Benvolio began to follow her.

* * *

Though she felt sad that she and Benvolio could not be together, Marietta laughed at the sight of Bernadette. She was sitting upside down in one of the seats, her guitar in her hands. She strummed, the familiar tune of 'Smoke on the Water' filling the air. Bern glanced up at Marietta. "Hello, one-and-only fan." 

"Hi Bern." She sat in the seat beside her. "What're you guys gonna play today?"

"Remember that festival we went to last year?" Catherine asked her sisters. "Remember that song we really liked? Well, I've been searching every music store on the planet and I finally found the music!"

"Cat, you rock." Bern stated, getting out of her seat and jumping up on the stage.

For the past three days, Marietta had been coming to the theatre and listening to the girls play. And Bernadette, Catherine, and Irene had adopted Marietta into their group, taking her as their "mascot", so to say. She'd found out that the girls were fraternal triplets, seventeen, and completely obsessed with music. They were the first friends that were not a member of her family that Marietta had had in years. They were also her only friends, now that Juliet was dead.

Marietta sighed. It had felt so good to sit down. She drew up her skirt and looked at the bandage on her right foot. The last mark Abra had left on her was fading, but this new one stood out. She shouldn't even be walking without crutches, but with the chance of seeing Benvolio, she didn't want to appear hurt. Than he would worry, and though it would feel nice to have someone worry about her, she didn't need him to. Abra had disappeared after hurting her last night, and he would probably not return for a few days. She rubbed her foot. Abra had thrown a candlestick at her when she had tried to run from him. It had cut her foot, and then she had tripped over it, twisting, possibly even spraining her ankle. As far as she knew her parents didn't know about this, but if they did, they didn't seem to care.

A pair of feet crossed her line of vision. She looked up. Benvolio stood there. Trying to hide her injury, she dropped her skirt, covering the bandage.

"I thought you were going home." She said, breathless.

He didn't respond. Instead, he knelt down beside her and pushed her skirt up to look at the bandage. Then he looked up at her. "You do a very good job of hiding your injuries."

"It's nothing." She looked away.

"You said that last time." He gently prodded her ankle. She hissed. "You should see a doctor."

"I'm fine." She insisted.

"Walk." He demanded, standing and holding his hand out to her. "Show me that you're fine."

Defiantly, she stood up, and though it hurt like hell, she walked as she had in the bookstore, hiding her limp. He shook his head. She glared at him. She didn't want him to do this, it would only lead to their destruction. Suddenly, her legs gave out and she fell down, landing hard on the sand. He walked over and helped her up.

"Fine?" he asked.

She leaned on him, keeping her bad leg off the ground. "I didn't want you to worry."

"I have to worry." He told her, smiling. "I love you."

She wanted to kiss him. He made her feel like she mattered. Her parents, aunts, uncles, everyone in her family always ignored her. It was all about Tybalt and Juliet. No one paid much attention to her. Her other cousins were more important than her. But Benvolio cared. And what happened to her mattered to him. If only they were not of different houses…

Catherine's sudden shout brought her out of her thoughts. "Bern, here's the guitar part…"

"Acoustic or electric?" Bern replied, taking the sheet from her sister.

"What's going on?" Benvolio asked, helping Marietta sit down in her seat.

"We're playing this really awesome song we heard at a festival last year!" Catherine cried gleefully. She turned to her sisters. "It's acoustic. Irene, it actually came with a mandolin part, so you can play that." She handed the sheet to Irene and sat down at the keyboard. (She played that as well as the drums, but not at the same time)

Bern gave a strum on her guitar. "Ready when you are, Cat."

Catherine began to play, as Bern and Irene strummed lightly on their instruments. Bern started singing, though the only two listening weren't paying attention to the words.

"Why don't you want me to worry?" Benvolio whispered.

"We have to stay away. You and I know that." She replied.

He looked at her. "I don't want to be away from you."

"I know." She felt like crying. "And being apart is killing me." She buried her face in his shoulder, not caring for a moment if anyone saw them. He put his arm around her shoulders and rested his head on hers. She needed to matter to someone. She didn't want to be invisible to everyone anymore. And Benvolio, he could see her. He had seen her, instead of looking straight through her. She needed…him.

_"And just for this moment, as long as you're mine. I've lost all resistance, and crossed some borderline. And if it turns out it's over too fast, I'll make every last moment last…as long as you're mine."_

"Please don't make me stay away." She murmured.

"I don't want you to." He pulled her as close to him as the seats would allow.

_"Maybe I'm brainless, maybe I'm wise, but you've got me seeing through different eyes. Somehow I've fallen under your spell, and somehow I'm feeling it's up that I fell."_

"Benvolio, we're at peace. Nothing but our fear is stopping us." She tilted her head up and looked at him.

"…_Say there's no future for us as a pair…"  
_

He frowned. "But what about the wonderful man who messed up your leg?"

"I'll find some way to get him to leave me alone." She said.

Instead of answering, he gently kissed her. When they broke apart, he whispered, "Then we'll stay together. I love you too much to let you go."

_  
__"And though I may know…I don't care. Just for this moment, as long as you're mine. Come be how you want to and see how bright we shine. Borrow the moonlight until it is through, and know I'll be here holding you…as long as you're mine."

* * *

_

Damn it. It was hard to walk on crutches. Marietta nearly fell as she opened the door to her house. After they had "made up", Benvolio had insisted on taking her to a doctor to have her foot examined. And Bernadette, because she thought it would seem suspicious if they went out in a public place by themselves, had tagged along. Now Marietta was hobbling along on crutches.

She went inside her house, noting that there were no servants around. That was odd. She knew her parents weren't home, they had gone to a "conference" with her aunt and uncle-meaning they would talk and drink a lot of wine. Normally, Marietta would go with them to keep Juliet company, but since Juliet was dead, they saw no reason for her to attend. So she had prepared herself to be alone in the house all night. But she had expected the servants to be there.

She felt uneasy. What if Abra was here? She glanced around nervously as she pushed the large door shut with her shoulder. Then she remembered-the servants always had Wednesday evenings off. So she truly was all alone.

"Do you love him?"

A chill ran up her spine. She wasn't alone. She clumsily turned herself around. Abra stood at the top of the stairs, glaring at her.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." She started to walk, (well, hop really) away.

"Benvolio. Do you love him?"

It wasn't a question. It was a threatening sentence. If she answered yes, he would hurt her. If she answered no, he would suspect she was lying and would hurt her until she confessed. Either way, she lost. So she kept walking, ignoring him.

That wasn't a very smart move. She was almost out of the foyer, when she heard him run down the stairs, across the foyer, and-He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her off the ground. Her crutches clattered to the floor.

"Let go of me!" she shrieked, tugging at his hands.

"Fine." He threw her to the ground. She tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her bad foot. "Do you love him?" he growled.

"Why should I tell-AHH!" she screamed as he twisted her foot.

"Tell me if you love him!" he demanded, twisting her foot.

Torture. He was torturing her. And it hurt. It hurt even more than walking on her bad foot had. Tears of pain blurred her vision. Why was she letting him do this? Why not give him an answer? Then he'd stop. The pain would stop.

He gave her leg a particularly bad twist. Her scream became a word. "_Yes!_" He paused. "Yes…" she sobbed. "I love him."

He watched her cry for a minute. "And." He began. "Does he love you?"

"Yes…" she sniffled.

He dropped her foot and ran. Too late Marietta realized what he was going to do. "No!" she cried. "No, Abra, please-" But he was out the door and gone.

Marietta crawled slowly over to the telephone. She dialed, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please be there…"

"'Ello? O'Brian residence, triplet number one speaking." There was a crash in the background. "Catherine, stop doing whatever the hell you're doing!"

"Bernadette…" Marietta managed to choke out.

"Marietta?" Bern asked. "Are you okay?"

"He…he's going…he's going to hurt him..." Marietta whispered.

"Who?" Bern sounded very confused.

"Abra…he…he hurt me…and now…he's going…he's going to hurt Benvolio." Marietta couldn't stop crying. The tears kept coming.

"He'll be okay." Bernadette assured her. "Just stay on the phone with me, okay? He will be alright…"

* * *

"But why did you have to take _my_ car!" Benvolio shouted. 

"Well, how else were we supposed to go anywhere?" Gregory said, exasperated.

"Yeah, you weren't exactly in the brightest of spirits this morning." Sampson added.

The sun was getting low in the sky. Benvolio had arrived home awhile ago, but his brothers had only just returned. He had almost finished yelling at them about taking his car. Their parents were used to these fights and ignored them.

"But still! It's _my_ car!" Benvolio argued.

"And _you_ having been acting weird since last Friday!" Sampson shot back.

"And why should it matter to you how I act!" Benvolio was very close to strangling his brothers.

"Because you've never been like this!" Gregory shouted back.

There was a silence. It was true, Benvolio had been acting differently since he met Marietta. He suddenly wasn't angry anymore. "I'm sorry. But…well. When you find what I have, I think you'll understand. And I'm sorry I got mad. It was just a very large inconvenience."

"We should have asked." Sampson shrugged.

"And good luck with that Capulet girl." Gregory grinned, and the two of them ran out of the room, cackling madly.

Well, well. His brothers had more brains in their heads than they let on. Benvolio made his way up the stairs to his room. But when he opened the door to his room, he had to gasp. Someone had broken in through his window and trashed his room. Covers thrown off his bed, clothes strewn everywhere, furniture overturned. And scrawled on one of the walls is red paint, was this message:

**I can do much more than this. Stay away from her, and perhaps your body won't be found in a dark alley. This is your second warning, Benvolio. Three strikes and you're dead.**

This was serious. Abra wasn't giving up, he meant business. And what would his parents say when they saw this? He had to clean this up fast. He called for his brothers, who came running in. They stared in shock at the mess and the words.

"You've got quite the enemy." Gregory said, whistling.

"All this over a Capulet girl?" Sampson raised his eyebrows.

"Yes. But you need to help me get this cleaned up before someone sees. And not a word to _anyone_ about this!" Benvolio instructed.

"Yessir." They mock saluted.

They began to straighten up. The damage wasn't too bad, the worst was the paint on the wall. Halfway through cleaning up, the telephone rang somewhere in the house. A few minutes later, their mother called.

"Benvolio! Phone's for you!"

He shrugged at his brother's questioning looks and went to pick the phone up in a different room. "Hello?"

"Yo. Have you ever been in a three-way call?" Bernadette's Irish brogue was the voice on the other end.

"Um…no." Benvolio replied, extremely confused.

"Well, we'll have to work with that. Don't hang up." There was a click. A few seconds later it clicked again. "He's here." Bernadette told someone.

"Benvolio?" Marietta's quick, tearful voice reached his ear.

"Marietta!" He didn't like the way she sounded. Something was wrong. "Are you okay?"

"Am I alright!" she cried hysterically. "I thought he…he would…" her voice grew soft. "Kill you."

"Oh, no, I'm fine, nothing happened to me. Don't worry. He just sort of trashed my room." Benvolio assured her. "What about you? Did he do anything to you?"

"He twisted my leg. It really hurts." She sniffed.

"As touching as this is, and I truly don't mean to sound rude, but I really don't think that continuing this relationship is a good idea." Bernadette said. "But that's just me, I'm not the one with death threats on my head."

"I can't leave her with him." He replied. "I can't make her face him alone."

"You're not immortal, Benvolio." Marietta said softly. "If he says he's going to kill you, he has a good chance of succeeding. He's powerful. You can't protect me forever. You can't escape death."

"What's gotten into you? You're talking like you've given up!" Bern exclaimed.

"You just told us to give up." Benvolio reminded her.

"I didn't say 'give up', I said 'continue the relationship', and by that I meant 'start meeting at night, stupid.'" Bern shot back.

"Hey, Bern? I…I really don't want to be alone tonight. Can I…can I spend the night at your house?" Marietta asked cautiously.

Silence. Then, an enthusiastic cry. "Whoo! Par-TAY!" There was a crash as Bern apparently ran into something.

"I can't drive, though, with my foot…" Marietta pointed out.

"I can borrow Cat's truck." Bern replied.

"What about my truck?" Catherine exclaimed somewhere in the background.

"I'm borrowing it to pick up 'Etta." Bern explained.

"'Etta?" Benvolio asked Marietta.

"I really have no idea." Marietta responded, laughing slightly.

Meanwhile, Bern appeared to be yelling at the people in her house. "I can invite friends over whenever I want to, Mum!"

"I think we can hang up now." Benvolio stated.

"I think so too." She agreed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." He told her.

"Alright." She was about to hang up. "Benvolio?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He smiled. "I love you too."


	4. Affection

_Hullo. This chapter was kind of hard to write, especially the ending. I would like to remind everyone that this is a PG-13 story (or T or whatever they call 'em now) and that this chapter is one of the reasons why. Nothing too bad, but definitely not PG._

_Anyway, Tonyboy--And Tybalt wore a giant hat at the party scene and they did a weird dance involving bells? Yes, that is the one I'm thinking of. And if last chapter made you h.ate Abra, I don't know what later chapters are going to make you do. _

_I'm really excited about the upcoming chapters (it's starting to get GOOD!) so I hope to write them fast for you all to enjoy. Anyway, this is a long Author's Note, so stop reading it and enjoy this chapter. _

A month passed with little incident. Marietta's leg healed, and they started meeting at night. Benvolio quickly learned the grounds to Marietta's house. Every night he climbed over the wall, dashed across the large back lawn, and climbed up the fire ladder she lowered for him. Over the balcony, and into her room. They never had to worry about anyone coming in, because, as Marietta had told him, her door was locked every night.

He stealthily made his way across the lawn, recalling his reaction. He had been shocked to find that her parents actually locked her in her room every night.

"_They what!" he had exclaimed._

"_They lock my door." She replied with a shrug. "When I was little, I sleepwalked. I would go out of my room and downstairs. To stop me, they had a maid lock my door and then unlock it in the morning. I stopped sleepwalking, but I guess they forgot to tell the maid to stop locking it. So it still gets locked every night."_

"_That's horrible." _

"_They don't love me, remember?"_

He remembered well enough. It was virtually safe, this sneaking in. Still, he had this gnawing feeling that Abra was around, watching him climb up her ladder. He really didn't want to die. That wasn't in his plan for life. He leaped over the balcony and walked into her room.

To his surprise, she was sitting on her bed, sobbing quietly. Oh, no. What had Abra done now? "Marietta?" he said, making his way over to her.

She looked up at him, sniffling. "Oh! Hi." She wiped her eyes. "I didn't hear you."

He sat down beside her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just…well, today's my birthday." She told him. "And they forgot. Again. They haven't remembered since I was eleven."

"September 16th? Today? That's your birthday?" he asked, dumbfounded. She nodded. "Happy birthday…" he gave her a hug, attempting to make her feel better.

"You're the only one who's said that to me all day." She stated, her head resting on his shoulder.

"If you'd told me you turned eighteen today, I would've said it sooner." He replied.

"I didn't think it was important. I don't know your birthday." She said.

"April 29th." He told her, smiling. "And it's important to me."

"Well, at least someone cares." She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"More than you know, love." He assured her.

She sighed, pulling away from him. "Abra decided to give me a 'present'…"she showed him her left arm. It was covered in bruises. "I think he was trying to break it."

"I thought you said he had left for Mantua." Benvolio gingerly prodded her arm.

"I thought he had!" she exclaimed. "But he showed up today and tried to rip my arm out of its socket!"

He studied her. She was tired, he could see it. Every week passed and another injury was added to the growing list. How she could stand it, he didn't know. Yet day after day she put on a brave face, ready for whatever her psychotic family had in store for her. Her only salvation was these nights, when they could meet, and talk, or whatever. Benvolio desperately wanted to make her happy, even if it was only for one night.

"Marietta, you should sleep." He told her.

"But what about us, our time?" she asked.

"I can manage for one night." He replied. "But listen. Tomorrow, you come to my house. Park a few blocks away, I'll have one of my brothers help you get up to my room."

"Why…?"

"Will you come?"

She searched his face, trying to understand. "Alright. I'll come."

"Good. Now, get some rest." He kissed her, then disappeared out her window and down the ladder, leaving her in silent wonder.

* * *

It was late evening the next day when Marietta pulled up next to a wall of shrubs blocking the back lawn of his mansion from view. She sat in her car, looking around. She could see the top of his house from here. Which room was his, she wondered? Also, why was she here? She kept trying to think of reasons why he had asked for her to come tonight, but none came. She would just have to accept that he had a plan.

He had said one of his brothers would be here. She couldn't see anyone. She drummed nervously on her steering wheel. What if someone saw her? She had tried to make herself a tad less recognizable, but anyone could easily see through it. She wasn't one to be impatient, but this was testing her limits. This was dangerous. Then again, it was even more dangerous for him to sneak into her house. She had it easy.

Just then, Marietta noticed a sign in the bushes a few yards away. She couldn't read it from inside her car, so she climbed out and went to go look at it. It was a relatively small sign, and half hidden in the bushes. A message was scrawled on it in paint: 'Capulet girls do it better'.

Was this some sort of trick? She stepped away from the sign, a blush spreading across her cheeks. Yes, she was still a virgin but she was the only Capulet girl left. The only direct one, anyway. She felt as if the sign was ridiculing her. Then, she saw something she hadn't noticed before. The words 'Capulet' and 'girl' were in blue, the rest of it, including the 's', was in red. She recalled Benvolio jokingly telling her that his brothers, never bothering to ask her name, simply referred to her as 'Capulet Girl'. Was…was this sign a way of telling her something?

Yes, it was. Upon further inspection of the sign, she could see that there was a tiny arrow painted in the corner. She was meant to go through the bushes? Figuring it was her only plan, Marietta locked her car and began fighting through the bushes. It was harder than she thought it would be, but she made it through. She tumbled out and onto the lawn. And right into someone. She nearly screamed, partly out of fear and partly out of shock, but the man sushed her quickly.

"You Capulet Girl?" he asked quickly.

She blinked in surprise. "Yeah, I am."

He jerked his head in the direction of the house. "Follow me."

They began walking (very un-stealthily, if I might add) across the lawn. "Um, so…which one of his brothers are you?"

"Sampson." He replied. "The youngest. Ben's two years older than me, Greg's only one. Well, one and a half." He paused. "Wait, then Ben's two and a _half_ years older than me…"

Marietta calculated this and immediately felt sorry for their mother.

"Anyway." Sampson kicked a soccer ball lying on the lawn as he walked past it. It moved forward a few feet. "Ben talks about you a lot. Well, not a _lot_, since you're all "meeting in secret", but he tells me and Greg stuff about you."

"Good stuff or bad stuff?" she wondered.

"Mostly good." He shrugged. "Well, no, mostly little things he notices about you."

"Like…?"

"Like, he says you raise your eyebrows a lot."

"Anything else?"

"He tells us about the books you read." Sampson said, shrugging. He looked over his shoulder at her. "You read boring books."

Marietta decided to let this comment slide, since Benvolio had stated many times that he and his brothers barely read anything. "Are we almost at…wherever we're going?"

"Yup." They rounded the corner of the mansion and stopped beneath a window on the second floor.

"Lover-boy!" Sampson called. "Your girlfriend's here!"

Benvolio stuck his head out the window. "Hey, Sampson, can you yell a little louder? Because people in Italy can't hear you!"

"Oh yeah, "meeting in secret". Sorry." Sampson shrugged.

Benvolio disappeared, then returned and lowered down a fire ladder. Marietta began to climb up. In moments, she had reached the top. Benvolio helped her climb through the window.

"Hi." He said softly after she was in.

"Hi." She smiled. Then, she looked around the room. The first thing that jumped out at her was that there were cupcakes on a plate sitting on a desk in the middle of the room. Two candles, a 1 and an 8, sat upon the cupcakes. Two small packages sat beside the plate. "What's…"

"Happy birthday." He replied. "I'm sorry I couldn't get a cake, the cooks didn't want to make one. They did agree to cupcakes."

"You…you did all of this for _me_?" she questioned in disbelief.

"I don't know anyone else who turned eighteen yesterday and didn't get a proper celebration." He pushed her hair away from her face.

"But…why?" she was having trouble believing that this was real, that he had taken the time to do something special for her.

"Just because no one else does things for you doesn't mean I can't." he answered. "I love you. I wanted to make you happy."

"Thank you…"

"Your welcome. Now, are you going to blow out those candles, or is my room going to go up in flames?"

She laughed, moving to the desk. Her first birthday cake-well, something like a cake-since she was eleven. It had been a long time since she had made a wish. When she was twelve, Tybalt's parents had died just days before her birthday. It had been forgotten in all the funeral arrangements. A year later, on her thirteenth birthday, her parents had had to go out-of-town for some reason or another. Juliet, bless her ten-year-old soul, had been the only one to remember. And years passed, things interfering, until it was as if the date of her birth had been erased from her parents minds.

'I wish that next year, they'll have remembered.' She thought, blowing out the candles.

Benvolio nudged the two packages closer to her. "Now, open your presents. One's from me, and one's from Bern and her sisters."

Marietta picked up the first one and unwrapped it. It was a book, leather-bound, with the title in gold letters. "Pride & Prejudice?" she exclaimed, reading the title. "I love this book!"

"You told me your first copy had accidentally ended up in a box of books being donated to the library." Benvolio reminded her.

"Yes, it was…I couldn't get it back, and I never bought another one." She told him.

He opened the cover and pointed to a name written on the inside. "I got it back."

Indeed, the name was her own, with the date from four years ago when she had first bought it. "How…how did you manage to find this?"

"Well, let's just say I have no allowance left." He smiled.

"Thank you." She wiped her eyes, hugging the book to her chest. "I can't believe you found this."

"I can't believe I did either." He held out the other present to her.

She took it, and upon unwrapping it, discovered that it was a cassette tape. "This is from Bern?"

"Yeah. She said you had to listen to the beginning of it after opening." He pointed to the boom box sitting on his dresser.

She inserted the tape and pressed 'play'. A moment later, Bern's voice could be heard.

"Hey, chica! Why didn't you tell us about your birthday? Oh, that reminds me-Cat! C'mere, we gotta sing." A pause. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Marietta…happy birthday to you!" There was cheering. "Anyway, this is a tape of us performing what we feel to be our best songs. Hopefully we'll get both sides-or at least one side-filled before your boyfriend comes to pick it up in ten hours. Luckily, we can perform on such a tight schedule. So…enjoy!"

Marietta hit 'stop' as the opening notes of some song began to play. She turned to Benvolio. "I really can't say thank you enough."

He pulled her into his arms. "Than don't say anything."

She rested her head on his chest, sighing in content. This had to be the best birthday she'd ever had, even when her parents had remembered it. Things didn't seem so bad, just for a little while. Just for tonight. "I want to give you something."

"You don't have to give me anything." He said.

She pulled out of his embrace and gently pushed him backward until he ran into his bed. He looked at the bed, then back at her. She gathered up her courage, for she'd never acted remotely seductive in her life. She sat him down, then straddled him. "I want to." She whispered.

He stared at her. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure."

"Well then." He grinned rather wickedly. "I can't very well say no, can I?"

* * *

He lay on his side, watching her sleep. It was mid-morning. Nine, if his clock was correct. She looked even more beautiful in her sleep. He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. It had become a sign of affection, him doing that. He liked seeing her face.

Alright, time to admit it. He felt guilty. He had not asked her over last night just because he wanted to sleep with her. He had only wanted to make her happy. The rest was her idea. But he still felt like last night should have gone differently. He had envisioned it being like their usual meetings. Just sitting and talking…maybe a little making out. But he had never thought they'd do it. Well, yeah, he'd thought they'd do it _eventually_, but not after a month. Maybe six months. But not one month.

'You knew all those other girls for only a few hours and you gladly slept with them'. A little voice in the back of his head pointed out.

Touché.

She stirred beside him. Enough of this guilt trip. What was done, was done. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Good morning." He whispered.

"Mmm…good night." She closed her eyes and rolled over. "It's too early to be morning."

"It's nine o'clock." He replied.

"Too early."

He sat up and studied her, grinning. Seconds later, his pillow somehow collided with her head.

"Hey!" she cried, looking up at him. "What'd you do that for?"

"I didn't do anything." He said innocently.

"You did this!" she whacked him with her pillow.

In moments, they were having a rather childish pillow fight. Neither knew why. Neither cared why. It was fun, and no other reason mattered. But the door being flung open quickly interrupted their laughter.

"Benvol-Whoa."

They froze, staring at the person in the doorway. It was Gregory, who was now undoubtedly ogling Marietta's chest.

Benvolio glared daggers at his brother, while covering Marietta's chest with his pillow. "I thought I told you not to come in."

"Well, y'see…the police are here, and they want you. Now." Gregory explained.

"The police?" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, um, someone gave a tip that you kinda kidnapped Capulet Girl." Gregory shuffled his feet. "And now they're here."

"Abra." Marietta muttered darkly. "He did this, I know it."

"Gregory, go tell them I'll be there in a minute, then send Sampson outside to help her sneak back to her car." Benvolio instructed, trying to think up some sort of plan. Gregory nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

"I hate him!" Marietta cried, trying to find her clothes. "I goddamn _hate_ him!"

Benvolio pulled on his jeans, then watched her get dressed. She was trying not to cry. He glanced at her arm, covered in bruises. All the marks that man had left on her. All the things he'd done. Why couldn't Abra let her be happy? Why did he feel the need to punish her for nothing? What the hell was so screwed up in that man's head, that he thought it was fine to hurt her! Benvolio grabbed her arm. She looked at him. "C'mere…"

She sat beside him on the bed, crying silently. He wrapped his arms around her. "Everything will be okay."

She wiped her eyes. "I hope so."

"Benvolio, they need you _now_!" Gregory shouted up the stairs.

She kissed him fiercely. "Thank you again…for everything."

"Everything?" The guilt swept over him like a wave.

She smiled slightly. "_Everything_." Then she gathered up her presents, and with one last kiss, climbed out his window.

Benvolio watched her cross the huge lawn, then sighed and went to go deal with the police. He trudged down the stairs, yawning. He hadn't kidnapped anyone. He had no intention of kidnapping anyone. Perhaps Marietta was right, this was Abra's way of getting back at them. The police were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, as well as his mother, who looked less than pleased with all this.

"I didn't do it." Benvolio stated simply.

"Our tipster says you did." Prince replied.

"Did your tipster give a name?" his mother countered.

"No."

"Then how do you know it's accurate?" she asked pointedly.

"I don't believe someone would lie about a kidnapping." Prince crossed his arms and attempted to stare Anna down.

It didn't work. "How do you know it wasn't a childish prank pulled by someone who has a grudge against him?"

"If it was a prank pulled by someone with a grudge, who would this 'someone' be?" Prince's voice was growing annoyed.

"Abra." Benvolio said. When his mother gave him a questioning glance, he simply stated. "He jumped me a month ago."

"True." Prince tapped his notebook. "But we don't have any proof that he made the call."

"You don't have any proof that I kidnapped someone!" Benvolio exclaimed.

"Prince," Anna began. "Why are you doing this? You're chief-of-police, you know a kidnapping when you see one." She waved a hand at the foyer. "Does this look like a kidnapping?"

Prince stared at her. "Your son doesn't have the cleanest record, Mrs. Montague."

"Tickets for speeding and DUI. That doesn't make him a criminal." Anna reasoned.

There was a long silence. Prince looked at him, then at Anna, then back to Benvolio. "I'll go by the girl's house. If she's not there, I'm coming back here and you are coming with me."

"Thank you." Anna said. "We're sorry for taking up so much of your time." She gave Prince one of the falsest smiles Benvolio had ever seen, and escorted Prince out the door. The door closed and she turned to him. "Oh, Benny." She shook her head. "Can you stay out of trouble for just a bit?"

He sat down on the steps, his head in his hands. "I don't try to get into trouble, Ma. You know that. Trouble just--"

"Finds me." She finished. She sat down beside him. "You've said that to me so many times since you became a teenager."

"I'm twenty-one." He felt the need to point out.

"And still getting into trouble." She sighed. "And that's the point, Benvolio. You're twenty-one. You should be done getting into trouble. You dropped out of college, you party all night, you don't seem to have a plan for life. I don't mean to sound like your aunt and uncle, but Benny, don't you want to do something with your life?"

Yes. Spend the rest of it with Marietta. That was his plan. Yes, he'd dropped out of college two years ago, and had done nothing with himself since then. He had never planned to do something with his life, until now. He had figured he'd live as much as he could before a marriage was arranged for him and he'd have to be tied down forever. But now, things were different. He didn't want the things he had used to want, parties and beer and one-night stands. Now, he wasn't sure what he wanted, but he knew that whatever it was, he wanted Marietta to be with him.

"What do you want me to do, Ma?"

"I think…you should finish college. Start slow, one class at a time. It'd be useful if it was a business class, since one day you are going to have to take over your uncle's company. And stop going out at night." She advised.

It wasn't a bad plan. But was there room for Marietta in that plan? It made sense, the college idea. They hadn't been meeting at night just because of Abra, school had started a couple weeks ago, so she wasn't free during the day anyway. Why not take his mother's advice? There would be help if he needed it, and it was getting boring sitting around all day, so why not?

"I think I'll do that." He told his mother.

"Good. Now convince your brothers to do the same." She smiled and walked away, leaving him sitting on the steps, thinking about his future for the first time in a long while.


	5. Discovery

_I know I said I'd be able to write more during the summer, but what with band camp and kitchen renovations and a really bad case of writer's block, I could only manage this one chapter. I do not own the song 'Elaborate Lives' from the musical 'Aida', and I don't own those lines from 'The Lion King'. If it bugs anyone that I'm inserting Disney into Verona, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it, it was too funny to pass up. _

And another month passed. Benvolio did, indeed, enroll for an evening class. And, unlike when he'd been in high school, he actually did the work he was supposed to. Marietta was home-schooled, and she convinced her tutor to let her go for lunch so she could meet with Benvolio at the theater. Bern, who went to the public high school, would cut her study hall and lunch so she could hang out at the theater too. Abra was away in Mantua for unknown reasons, so they didn't have to meet at night anymore.

Benvolio's house was flurried with plans and preparations for the Halloween masked ball his aunt and uncle were forcing his mother to throw. With the 31st just a week away, Anna had become increasingly irritable, and the men of the house were giving her a wide berth for fear of getting their heads bitten off. It didn't help that Lady Montague seemed to be glued to Anna's hip, which only made her more irritated. Benvolio was grateful that he could get out of the house and away from the "I'm-so-pissed-off" vibe his mother was sending out.

"When I'm Lord Montague, I'm never going to let my wife throw a party." Benvolio stated from where he lay sprawled on the stage. He looked up at Marietta, who was sitting beside him and eating a sandwich.

"Will I be this non-party-throwing wife?" she asked, smiling.

"I certainly hope so." He replied, sitting up and giving her a kiss. His eyes searched hers. "Come to the party." He whispered.

She blinked in surprise. "Come to the party? But--I'm a Capulet."

"It doesn't matter." He said. He placed his hand on her cheek. "Please come."

"What if someone recognizes me?" she asked worriedly.

"Wear a mask. No one will be able to tell."

"I…I don't know." She looked at her lap, avoiding his gaze.

"Please." He pulled an invitation out of his pocket and held it in front of her face. "I'll be so bored."

She stared at it. The last party she'd been to was her uncle's, before…When Juliet met Romeo. Benvolio knew that, it was the last party he'd been to as well. "I thought we didn't want to be like them." She didn't look at him.

He paused. "I know." Was his response, telling her he understood why she didn't want to go, why she had reservations, and that he felt the same. "But I still want you to come."

She met his eyes. "Are you sure no one will recognize me?"

"Well, no one if you exclude my brothers and the entertainment." He replied with a grin.

She frowned. "Who's the entertainment?"

"I am!" Bern cried from where she was sitting a few feet away. "Well, we are. Not just me."

"Your mom is letting them perform?" Marietta wondered.

"I told her about them, they came over and played a couple songs—" Benvolio began to explain.

"And now we're getting paid and on the road to stardom! Mwaha!" Bern cackled.

"My aunt's not too pleased, but Mom pretty much threatened to kill her if she opposed." Benvolio said with a nod.

"Well, I guess I have to go then." Marietta took the invitation, smiling.

"It'll be fun." They chorused.

"I'll have to practice my curtsy." she stood up and executed said curtsy.

He reached up and grabbed her hand. "My own lovely lady." He kissed her hand gently.

"My handsome gentleman." She replied.

Bern made a gagging sound. "All this love is making me sick."

* * *

She sat in her car, nervously drumming on the steering wheel. She glanced up towards the mansion, remembering the last time she waited outside his house. The day after her birthday. She frowned briefly. This was different though. She and Benvolio weren't going to be alone, hiding behind a locked door, only worried about his parents. Tonight, they would be fighting to be heard over a crowd, standing right out in the open, and this flimsy gold-painted mask was supposed to be hiding her from half of Verona.

It wasn't just that. She was never comfortable at parties. Back before…before Benvolio, she would follow Juliet as she mingled with everyone, people telling Juliet she was so grown, so beautiful, her parents must be so proud. Juliet had loved parties. She was only thirteen, when she…left, so she hadn't gone to many. For Juliet, each party was an exciting adventure. For Marietta, it was an unwanted social situation she tried to avoid at all costs. Eventually Juliet would be spirited away by her mother or someone else who wanted her attention, and Marietta would find a corner, open a book, and read. No one bothered her, or even noticed her, which was fine. It was the way she wanted it.

Sighing, Marietta got out of her car and began walking up to the gigantic front door. It had to be a block away from where she parked, so she wrestled the high heels off her feet and began to trek along barefoot. She could hear the music pumping inside, people shouting and laughing. She knew Bernadette had to be singing, but it was impossible to hear her voice. It was probably pretty impossible to hear on the inside too. Marietta lowered her mask over her eyes as the door came into view. There was a line stretching down the huge porch stairs, but it wasn't very long. It only came to the bottom of the steps. There were two men at the door, looking at invitations and checking names off the guest list. She walked past the sprawling driveway, filled with cars that valets were trying to park somewhere else.

She joined the end of the line, sitting on the bottom step to put her stupid shoes back on. She hated high heels with a furious passion. But you couldn't dress like a fairy tale princess without the proper shoes. What princess wore sneakers? Marietta smoothed the bodice of her golden yellow dress, mostly to do something with her hands. She fidgeted as she waited in line. She played with her normally straight hair that was curly for tonight, fiddled with this stupid purse that was empty except for her invitation because she knew she would lose it, trying to calm her nerves by busying her hands with trivial things.

And then she was at the front. The man motioned for her to show him her invite, which she drew out of her purse. He quickly read the words printed on it, 'Benvolio's Guest', then nodded to the other man, who made a check on his clipboard and opened the door for her to go in.

She walked in and froze. It was so packed, so crowed with people she had been told since childhood she could never associate with. The music blared louder, and she looked around and saw the stage Bern and her sisters were rocking out on. She didn't know what to do. She had half a mind to run back out the door and never come back. But then, all the way across the huge foyer, she saw him. He was sitting on the railing of the second floor, eating an apple and watching the crowd. She began to force her way through the throng of people, trying to get to him.

She finally reached the other side and was standing beneath him. "Benvolio!" she shouted as loud as she could, trying to get her voice heard over everyone else's and Bern singing. He didn't appear to hear, but then he glanced downward and saw her. He grinned, getting off the railing and running down the stairs to her. When he reached her, he caught her in his arms and spun her around.

"I'm so glad you're here!" he greeted her after putting her back down. He was dressed as a soldier from the Sixties, looking ready to head off to Vietnam. He straightened the helmet on his head and took in her costume. "Wow."

"You look very rugged." She told him.

"You look beautiful." He said it so soft she had to strain to here it over the rest of the noise. "That dress is amazing. Who're you supposed to be?"

"Belle, from Beauty and the Beast." She gave her skirt a little twirl. "She was sort of a childhood idol of mine. Who're you?"

"Mom said she was spending too much money on this stupid party already and that we would have to make our own costumes. I found this in the attic. Some relative of mine must have fought in Vietnam." He pointed at the sewed-on nametag, which displayed the name 'Montague'.

The band stopped playing and they could hear Bern say "We're taking five, but hang tight and The Storytellers will be back to play some more rockin' music."

There was a cheer and seconds later Bern appeared in a flowing black gown with lots of gauzy material draped over the shoulders. "Hey y'all." She sounded slightly hoarse. "Love the costumes."

"Who're you dressed up as?" Benvolio asked.

"I am Clotho, one of the Fates from Greek mythology." She curtsied. "I spin the thread of life. Catherine is Lachesis, who measures the thread, and Irene is Atropos, who cuts the thread."

Benvolio opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by something he saw from across the room. "Shit. Run, quickly, hide, before they see us and--" he tried to hurry the two girls away, but his brother's voices rang out.

"Ben!" Sampson and Gregory pushed through the crowd, and came up beside them.

Benvolio groaned. "Oh, great, they're going to do it."

"Hiya ladies." Sampson greeted them. He was dressed in a sandy colored shirt and khaki pants. He had a pair of brown cat ears on his head and a brown tail hanging from the back of his pants. "Lookin' fine."

"I will kill you if you touch her." Benvolio growled.

"Okay, okay, I get it, Capu--" Sampson was hurriedly shushed.

"Don't. Say. That." Benvolio looked like he was ready to murder his brother. "Or she'll get thrown out and I. Will. _Kill_. You."

"Who're you?" Sampson wondered, changing the subject and trying to avoid the Death Glare his brother was giving him.

"Belle." She replied.

"A Disney character!" Gregory exclaimed. "Like us!" He was dressed in dark red shirt and brown pants. He had little horns on his head and a red tail.

"Which are you?" Bern asked.

"Oh God, no, you asked." Benvolio groaned and walked away a few feet. Bern and Marietta exchanged confused looks before Sampson cleared his throat and started talking.

"I can see what's happening." He said, grinning broadly at Benvolio.

"What?" Gregory put in with a grin identical to his brother's.

"Not listening!" Benvolio cried, covering his ears.

"And they don't have a clue!" Sampson continued.

"Who?" Gregory added.

"They'll fall in love and here's the bottom line: Out trio's down to two." Sampson walked over to Benvolio and held two fingers up in front of his face. Benvolio yelled in frustration and stalked away a few more feet.

Marietta and Bern exchanged glances and giggled, knowing now exactly who Sampson and Gregory were supposed to be.

"The sweet caress of twilight. There's magic everywhere!" Sampson waved his hand wildly. "And with all this romantic atmosphere--"

"DISASTER'S IN THE AIR!" Sampson and Bern yelled. He looked at her, and Marietta noticed a slight blush creeping over Bern's face.

"Are you done now, Timon?" Benvolio shouted angrily.

"Very. Pumbaa, let's away!" Sampson and Gregory disappeared back into the crowd.

"It's been way more than five." Bern glanced at her watch, her face still slightly flushed. "Time to play. Hey, I wrote a song for you guys, I'll play it in a bit."

"Sure." Marietta nodded before Benvolio grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

"They have been doing that all week." Benvolio growled.

"I thought it was funny." Marietta replied.

"You haven't heard it five thousand times." He argued. They went out a door leading out into the gardens. "It's less crowded out here, and you can talk without shouting."

Indeed, it was much quieter, and only one other couple could been seen walking through the topiary maze. He released her arm but reached for her hand. She offered it, and their fingers gently intertwined. They wandered through the maze, hand in hand, listening to the muted sounds of the party. The band was playing again, but something softer. The music trickled through the speakers placed strategically throughout the gardens.

Once they were safely concealed in the maze, close to the center, they stopped walking. She sat down on a bench and yanked her shoes off. "I hate these things."

He laughed, sitting beside her. "I think you look better in sneakers, if it's any consolation."

"Loads." She breathed, massaging one of her feet.

He stared at her, drinking in her image. If this wasn't beauty, he didn't know what was. Slowly, he reached out and slid the mask off her face. She turned to him. He brushed his hand against her cheek. "You don't have to hide your face for me." She leaned towards him, their lips inches apart.

Bern's voice coming through the speakers suddenly ruined the mood, as if she knew somehow they were about to kiss. "Alright, this next song goes out to two of my friends who I wrote it for. Be happy in love, guys."

"She means us." Marietta whispered.

"Dance with me." He asked as Bern began to sing.

"_We all lead such elaborate lives. Wild ambitions in our sights."_

He pulled her to her feet and led her out into the middle of their tiny bit of maze. She snaked her arms around his neck as he placed his hands on her waist. They started to sway to the slow music.

"_How an affair of the heart survives…days apart, and hurried nights. Seems quite unbelievable to me. I don't want to live like that. Seems quite unbelievable to me. I don't want to love like that. I just want a time to be…slower, and gentler. Wiser…free."_

"I told you you'd have fun if you came." He teased gently.

"Whose having fun?" she replied, smiling.

"We're dancing all alone in a topiary maze. You don't call this fun?" he spun her out slowly.

"It's romantic." She admitted.

"_We all live in extravagant times, playing games we can't all win. Unintended emotional crimes. Take some out, take others in. I'm so tired of all we're going through. I don't want to live like that. I'm so tired of all we're going through. I don't want to love like that. I just want to be with you."_

"We haven't been alone in awhile." He said.

"Not since…" she faltered. "Not since my birthday. And…Benvolio," she met his eyes. "Perhaps then, I thought I was ready for that but now, I think I was pushing myself that night."

He pulled her closer and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I didn't think we were ready, either."

"So can we wait awhile before doing it again?" she asked quietly.

"If that's what will make you happy, that's all that matters to me." He replied just as softly.

_"This may not be the moment to tell you face-to-face, but I could wait forever for the perfect time and place. We all lead such elaborate lives. We don't know whose words are true. Strangers, lovers, husbands, wives. Hard to know who's loving who. Too many choices tear us apart, I don't want to live like that. Too many choices tear us apart, I don't want to love like that…"_

"I keep falling in love with you all over again." She whispered.

_"…I just want to touch your heart. May this confession be the start."_

The song ended and inside people applauded loudly. Outside, the couple the song was written for was sharing a kiss.

* * *

Anna Montague was walking through the garden, trying to find one of her sons. Mostly, it was just an excuse to get away from her sister-in-law, who seemed to think the party was not perfect. Anna needed to get out. So she found herself in the topiary maze, not really caring if she found any of her sons or not. She just needed to be able to breathe.

She came around a corner and stopped in her tracks. At the other end of this small section of maze, was Benvolio and a girl in a yellow dress. They were dancing slowly to the last strand of music. The song ended and she witnessed her son and the girl kiss. Anna sighed inwardly. Her son was, as his brothers put it, a player. She felt sorry for this poor thing he'd invited and would probably dump tomorrow morning.

They stopped kissing and stood there, perhaps talking. And Anna felt a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she'd seen this girl somewhere before. A picture formed in her head. Her nephew's funeral. She could vaguely remember seeing Benvolio and this girl together there, too. Why had that girl been there? Anna racked her brain to try and remember more. And then it hit her. The girl had been sitting on the other side of the room during the funeral--the Capulet side.

* * *

Benvolio hadn't realized they had company until his mother stormed in from out of nowhere, grabbed his arm and dragged him away, leaving Marietta standing alone, probably just as confused as he was.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" his mother hissed.

"Ma-what-" his brain couldn't for complete sentences at this very moment.

"Thus far, I've ignored all your philandering with stupid girls who don't realize you're only pretending to love them so you can sleep with them, but I cannot ignore this!" Anna shouted.

"Ma, what are you talking about?" Benvolio cried, trying to understand what his mother was yelling at him for.

"I'm talking about how you can sleep with all the whores you want, that's your own stupid choice, but I will not let you play this girl!" she was shorter than him, but at this moment Benvolio felt about three inches tall.

"I'm not playing her!" he exclaimed. Why was she yelling at him for that? Shouldn't she be screaming about how Marietta was a Capulet, sworn enemy of Montagues and all that jazz?

"Then what are you doing, exactly? It certainly looks to me like you are just trying to get sex out of her." Anna gave him one of those 'I'm your mother and I know when you're lying' looks.

"…You're not mad at me for dating a Capulet?" he asked, still trying to comprehend exactly what his mother was getting at.

"I'm mad because you're stupid enough to try and play a Capulet! Her family will find out and kill you for breaking her heart, and then we'll be feuding again, and it'll all just--" Anna blinked and stared at him. "Dating?"

Benvolio laughed at the look of surprise on his mother's face. "Yes, Ma! Dating. I love her."

"You love her or you love her body?" Anna asked suspiciously.

Benvolio sighed. "Ma, please believe me."

"I'd like to, but your history with women is enabling me from doing so." She retorted.

He grimaced and walked around the corner to where they had been dancing before his mother appeared. Marietta was sitting on the bench dejectedly, her mask back on her face. She looked up at him when he quietly called for her to come over. She slowly came around the corner to face Anna.

Benvolio took Marietta's hand. "Marietta, this is my mother, Anna. Ma, this is Marietta."

Marietta nodded politely. "Nice to meet you."

Anna eyed them. "So you're saying she's your girlfriend and not a one-night stand?"

"Yes, Ma." Benvolio confirmed. "We're in love. I'm not going to hurt her."

"Abra hurts me enough." Marietta muttered.

"What? What's this about hurting?" Anna looked at Marietta with…was that concern?

"Abra. Tybalt was his friend. He wants to marry me, but…" she trailed off, her hand gently touching her neck. "He keeps hitting me and…and…" she buried her face in Benvolio's shoulder.

He put his arms around her. "It's okay. He's not gonna hurt you. I won't let him."

Anna could now see, by this gesture of undying devotion, that they were not lying. She could see it in the way he gently spoke to her, assuring her. She could see it in the way that Marietta looked at him after she was calm again. Anna smiled at them. "Who else knows about you two?"

"My brothers, and the girls in the band." Benvolio said. "You-you won't tell anyone, will you?"

"No, I won't. And when someone else finds out and doesn't like it, I'll fight for you. I didn't go to law school for nothing." Anna grinned and began to walk away. "Your aunt will have another problem to tell me about by now."

Benvolio waited until she was out of sight before letting out the breath he'd been holding. "I thought she was going to make us stay apart!" he said, relieved.

"Uh huh…" Marietta nodded slowly then turned to look at him. "Now, what was all that stuff about philandering?"


	6. Responsibility

_What I had running through my head while I wrote this chapter (or parts of it): 'Slide' by the Goo Goo Dolls. Rest of the author's note at the end_

Marietta paced her room, her calendar in hand. She kept flipping the pages between August and now, mid-November. Something wasn't right here. In that whole time period, there was only one red circle on a date. She usually skipped a month in the summer, but that had happened in June. And it was fall, almost winter. Her hands kept flipping the pages to September and her eyes landed on a day. The day after her birthday.

In the beginning of October, she'd gotten the stomach flu. She hadn't been able to get out of bed without throwing up. It had lasted a week, and she spent it curled up in bed, reading if she could manage it, but mostly sleeping and feeling horrible. Because she couldn't get out of bed and her parents didn't care, she'd taken nothing to make her feel better. It had been the longest week of her life. But, both she and Benvolio had dismissed it as just that-a stomach flu. What if…it was something else?

She sat down on her bed, sighing and looking at the calendar. Why? Why was this happening? It didn't make sense. Nothing made much sense anymore. She glanced over at her trash can. Yesterday she'd received a letter--more of a note, really, postmark Mantua. All it had said was 'I know what you've been doing. It stops when I return.'. If something was really happening, then Benvolio would be killed, and God knows what Abra would do to her.

Marietta squeezed her eyes shut and tried to make her problems disappear. As hard as she tried, all she kept thinking about was her calendar, and how terribly off it was. How terrible life would be if it was what it seemed to be. How could she not have noticed? 'Don't count your chickens before they hatch.' She told herself. 'It could be nothing.' But as she stood and grabbed her keys from the bedside table, she knew it wasn't.

* * *

Benvolio was rather hopeless when it came to jewelry shopping. He stood in the middle of the store, staring blankly at a display. They all looked the same. How was he supposed to know which ones were going to make her smile and which ones weren't? He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. This was pathetic. Simply pathetic.

"Do you need some help?"

Benvolio turned in surprise at the familiar voice. Bernadette stood behind him, eyebrows raised ands holding a broom. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

She held up the broom. "This is my high-paying job." She replied rather sarcastically. "I get the fun of being a janitor."

"Ah." He said, slightly guilty. With his family being so rich and everything, he had never had a job. He had no idea how it felt to be paid less than minimum wage.

"So, you're still in the doghouse?" she grinned wickedly, leaning on her broom.

Benvolio winced. He and Marietta had gotten into a bit of a fight at the Halloween party. She didn't like that he'd had so many one-night stands. She'd said that if he had done that then, how was she supposed to trust him not to start cheating on her? Benvolio understood what she felt (he was angry at himself for having been so stupid before they met), and pretty much let her yell at him. He had then proceeded to try and convince her he had changed. She had seemed convinced, but she had still been giving him a bit of a cold shoulder. Last week she'd apparently gotten sick of ignoring him, and they had made up. Still, Benvolio felt that he should give her something to prove that he loved her more than anyone else. And now he was in a jewelry store. "Ah…not quite."

Bern rolled her eyes. "She hates necklaces, you know." She pointed out, jerking her thumb at the display case beside him.

"Yes, I know!" he snapped, glaring down at the jewels. She had told him that she hated necklaces before. She said she hated the feel of them, the weight. 'Like a collar.' She had said.

He did _not_ want his 'I'm sorry, I love you, please forgive me' present to seem like he wanted to control her, to yank her along on a little chain. That was Abra's horrible intention, not his. But Abra already gave her necklaces made of bruises…

His fist clenched inside his coat pocket. God, he hated that man. He'd kill him if he could, but killing Abra would send him to exile in Mantua. He'd rather hate the man and not be able to do anything than be away from Marietta and not be able to help her. Benvolio sighed, turning away from the display case. So many problems, and yet no solutions.

"May I suggest this counter?" Bern walked to another one a few yards away and tapped on the glass. He followed her, and stared in shock at it's contents. Rings, any type you wanted. Gold, silver, diamond, pearl. All glinting up at him, practically screaming _'Look at me!'_

"I--" he tore his gaze away from the jewelry to glare at Bern. "I can't give her a _ring_!" he hissed.

She gave him a stare that clearly said 'You really are an idiot, aren't you?'. "You're afraid of commitment." She stated.

"I am not!" he cried. Several heads turned to stare at him. "I just--" he stared back down at the rings in fright. "When he comes back he'll see her wearing it and he'll know it's from me!" He leaned forward until he was nose-to-nose with Bernadette. "And then he will _kill_ me."

She leaned backwards. "He would notice anything in this store, regardless of what it was." Her eyes suddenly lit up. "Except…" she looked around to see if any other employees were nearby. Then she handed him her broom and ducked behind the counter. She pulled a tray of rings out of the display and set it down for him to see.

"A claddagh." She breathed.

"A what!" he asked incredulously, leaning the broom against the counter.

She glared at him before taking one of the rings out of the tray and handed it to him. "A claddagh. An Irish ring, originally designed in the 17th century. Legend says the designer's name was Robert Joyce and he was kidnapped by pirates or something, and when he finally returned home, he presented his lover with a claddagh."

Benvolio stared at the little ring. Two hands delicately held a heart between them, the heart topped with a crown. It was silver and thin, with no jewels, and could easily be mistaken for a fake trinket instead of an actual ring. So elegant and yet so simple.

So perfect.

"Tradition dictates that a girl who is without love should wear it on her right hand, with the heart pointing outwards. If a girl has love for someone but is unsure if he loves her back, the heart should be pointed inward. And…" Bern smiled at the ring in his hands. "If the man the girl loves is also in love with her, then the ring would be on the left hand, heart inward."

"How do you know all that?" he wondered, not taking his eyes away from the ring.

She held up her right hand. An identical ring sat on her finger, heart inward. "No Irish girl is complete with out one of these." She declared rather proudly.

He glanced at her hand. "It's pointing in." He grinned wickedly. "Who's the guy?"

"None of your business!" she cried, blushing and putting her hand behind her back.

Benvolio went back to studying the one in his hand. "What does it all mean, anyway? The heart, and crown?"

"The hands signify friendship, the crown loyalty, and the heart undying love." She told him, looking fondly down at the tray of claddaghs. "But I prefer to think of it as two hands; one heart."

"Hey!"

Both jerked around in surprise. An employee was storming over to them. "What are you doing back there!"

Bern ducked out from behind the counter, grabbed her broom and was about to hurry away, but then looked at him and nodded at the ring in his hands. "Together you and her have one heart. You both need to hold it so it doesn't fall and break. Two hands…" she poked his chest. "…one heart." And with that, Bernadette scurried off.

The employee arrived beside Benvolio, glaring at Bern's retreating back. "I'm sorry. I hope she hasn't been much of a bother."

"No…not at all." He smiled at the man. "I'd like to buy this ring."

* * *

Marietta didn't even glance at her mother. She barely noticed the woman entering her room. She simply continued to stare at her bathroom door, and the utter finality the wastebasket contained. How could one piece of plastic have such power, bringing her from living happily and being loved to…to what? This utter emptiness at knowing that her body held something else? Something alive? Problem after problem was appearing before her eyes, and she didn't know that her mother was about to deliver the biggest one of all.

"Marietta." Her mother said with no emotion whatsoever.

"Yes, Mother?" Marietta slowly turned to look at her, her mind still numb with the reality of it all.

"Your uncle and Lord Montague--" she said the name with such hatred that Marietta felt a sudden stab of dread. What would they say when she told them? What would Benvolio say? What would Abra do to her? "--have decided that there's too much between the families with them as Lords. As a result, they are both handing over the title to the next of kin in the hopes that new Lords might do the city good and release some of the hatred."

Why was her mother telling her this? It didn't concern her. Juliet was next-of-kin, Marietta was the last of the immediate Capulets to receive the title. What did she have to do with this plot? Then she remembered. Juliet was dead, Tybalt was dead. And that meant…

"Me!" Marietta cried. "I have to take the title!"

"Your husband will have to. Which means you have to get married within the month." Her mother told her. "And as Abra appears to be your only suitor, I suppose the wedding will be after he gets back."

"I will not marry him!" Marietta cried, jumping to her feet. She was angry beyond angry, she was downright _furious_. How--How could they even think about making her wed him! Didn't they see! They had ears and eyes, why couldn't they see what he'd done to her! Tears of fury sprang to her eyes. "Haven't you seen what he's done!"

"Marietta, stop this childish nonsense." Her mother replied, crossing her arms.

"He hurts me!" Marietta cried. "He beats me and bruises me and he keeps trying to--to _rape_ me, Mother! Why do you keep ignoring everything he's done!"

Her mother's face grew dark. "Now see here." She said sternly. "Making up stories will not make us change our minds. Whether you want to or not, you will get married and take the title."

Marietta wanted to scream and cry and run and even hit her mother. "I'm not lying! I'm not making anything up! You saw me walk on crutches for a week! That was him!" she felt a few tears run down her cheeks. "Just because Juliet's dead doesn't mean that I am!"

Her mother drew in a sharp breath. "How dare you dishonor your cousin like that!" she walked forward and grabbed her daughter by the hair. Marietta cried out, struggling. Their faces were inches apart. "You know what? I always wished you had died instead of them." She tightened her grip on the fistful of hair. "If I am to be stuck with you, you could at least do what's asked of you, for once. I will not hesitate to disown you if it comes to that."

Marietta was trying not to cry. She had always known her parents didn't love her, but she'd never heard them say it. The words were like a knife through her heart. "Mother…" she choked out.

"That is final." Her mother hissed, before releasing her and shoving her towards the bed. Marietta collapsed upon it, sobbing into her blankets. Her mother swept out of the room without a second glance.

Outside the room stood her father. He glared at his wife as she strode out. "That was not necessary."

Her mother looked upon him haughtily. "I don't know why you are concerned about her. She's nothing."

Her husband grabbed her arm. "She's our daughter. I don't know why you insist on thinking of her as dirt under your feet."

"She will never be Juliet."

He tightened his grip on her arm. "Juliet was not your daughter, the sobbing girl in this room is. At least pretend you love her."

She yanked her arm away. "That is your weakness, Andrew. You do love her." She walked away, head held high.

Andrew Capulet sighed and sagged against the wall. He listened to the sobs emitting from the room. How did loving your own child make you weak? He wanted to go in there, comfort her, tell her it would be alright. But he couldn't. His wife held the strings, including the ones controlling him. She had power over him, and because of that he could not show affection to his daughter. He looked into the room, pained that he could do nothing. "I wish I could help you." He whispered before walking away.

* * *

Benvolio walked numbly towards the stage to meet Marietta. He'd just gotten out of lunch with his father and uncle. He was going to have to take the title, and all the responsibilities that went with it. He didn't think he was ready for such things. They had also hinted that getting married was not required of him, but it would be a plus. He fingered the ring box in his coat pocket. An arranged marriage meant forgetting Marietta, losing the one thing that mattered to him anymore. He couldn't let her be hurt, he couldn't just leave her to die with Abra.

Wait. If he was going to be taking his family's title, did that mean that…She was going to have to become Lady Capulet? That meant…she would be required to get married so her husband could be Lord. Oh, God. Her family didn't know about the both of them, he didn't count as a prospective suitor. Only…only Abra.

He stopped dead in his tracks. They would force her to marry Abra.

"No!" he shouted, breaking into a run. He didn't know what he was doing. Would her parents listen to him? What did he have to say? 'You can't let him marry her.' was all he could think of. It ran through his head as he sprinted across the boardwalk. He had to stop them.

"Benvolio?"

He tried to find the source of the voice. He realized he was past the stage, his former destination. Marietta stood there, looking like she had been crying recently. He walked towards her. "Do you have to take the title?"

She nodded slowly. "They're making me marry him."

It was too late. He drew her into his arms, holding her while she cried quietly. He could not stop them. It seemed like there was nothing he could do to prevent it. "It'll be alright…" he told her, but he didn't believe it.

"No, it's--it's not just that." She pulled away from him. "I--" she buried her face in her hands. "I'm pregnant."

He stared at her in shock. "You--You're pregnant?" Fear swept over him like a wave. How--how was it even possible? In all the things he'd ever done, they'd never resulted in this. A kid. _His_ kid. He didn't know how to be a father! He hardly knew how to be anything. He had to take over a company and now he was going to be a dad? It was just so…mind-blowing. So terrifying. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for any of the things they were throwing at him. All these responsibilities.

And as sudden as it had come, the fear left. Benvolio reached out and brought Marietta's hands away from her face. She looked up at him with teary eyes. "Hey…" he smiled. "It's not the end of the world."

"He'll kill me when he finds out!" she hissed. "And if he decides to let me live, he'll push me down the stairs or something and kill it." Her hand protectively went to her stomach. "And even if he ends up doing nothing, they'll exile me to Mantua for having a child out of wedlock. My mother threatened to disown me when I refused to marry him, when she finds out about this she'll throw me out!"

"If she throws you out you can come stay with me." He said firmly. "But stop worrying about all the things people will think, and concentrate on us. On me and you and _our_ child. Just think of it! A little Marietta reading under the covers instead of sleeping."

She chuckled. "Or a little Benvolio running around causing all sorts of trouble."

"Yes." He grinned. "Everything will be okay as long as we're together. We just have to tell your parents and then you won't be able to marry Abra. And if he tries to hurt you, he has to go through me first."

Marietta hugged him tightly. "I love you."

He hugged her back, not wanting to let her go. "I love you, too."

Benvolio became aware of the ring in his pocket. He wanted to give it to her, but was now the right time? Why would it not be? With this sudden new development, it seemed like giving it to say 'I'm sorry' just wasn't right. Like it shouldn't be used for an apology, but for a question.

He wasn't quite sure of what he was doing until the ring was out of his pocket and in his hand. He wasn't even sure of all the consequences that would come. All he knew was that it would solve all their problems. And it just felt right. He opened the ring box and held it out in front of her

"Will you marry me?"

She gasped and took the little box out of his hands. She looked from the ring, to him, then back to the ring. And then she laughed, throwing her arms around him. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times."

She kissed him, and he knew he had made the right decision. Now, he just had to convince his parents of that fact. She broke away from him, her face falling. "But you know how my family is. You have to ask permission to marry me, and they'll never agree."

Benvolio brushed a piece of hair out of her face. "Ma will know what to do."

* * *

"You're _what_!"

"Engaged." Benvolio repeated, wincing.

Anna stared at them in shock. Then she threw her hands up in the air. "You are twenty-one years old!"

"I know how old I am." Benvolio replied in defense. "And you got married when you were my age."

Anna couldn't argue with this, so she stuck her paintbrush behind her ear and frowned. Benvolio and Marietta had arrived in his mother's studio a minute ago to ask for her advice. They hadn't gotten around to telling her about the child yet. One announcement at a time.

"I can't believe this." Anna muttered, walking out of her studio. Benvolio and Marietta trailed after her like ducklings.

"Ma, you said you approved." Benvolio reminded her.

"Of you dating, yes!" Anna cried. "But not of marriage!"

"I'm pregnant."

Anna halted and turned to look at Marietta. It were the first words she'd said since arriving at Benvolio's house. Benvolio also stared at her. That information was not supposed to come until later.

"Come again?" Anna asked faintly.

"I'm pregnant." Marietta said, more determined. "And we need your help. My parents will refuse to let us get married. You said you went to law school, don't you know anything I can say that'll make them change their minds?"

Anna blinked. Then her face broke into a grin. "Why didn't you say that in the first place?" She put her arm around Marietta's shoulders. "I know just what to do."

_Cliffhanger! _

_  
I actually researched all the things the claddagh stood for. And I asked my mom and her friend about how they knew they were pregnant. My mom said she was sick as a dog and couldn't get out of bed unless she had something in her stomach. Her friend said that she didn't have morning sickness and hadn't realized she was pregnant until she was four months along. So it's different for every woman, I guess. _

_The reason for the little note at the beginning about the Goo Goo Dolls song is that when I originally planned out this chapter, I had 'Slide' in there at the part where Benvolio proposed. However, after writing it, I realized that the lyrics just ruined the effect of his proposal, instead of adding onto it like they usually do. So I took them out. I use song lyrics too much, anyway._

_Marietta's dad appeared for the first time. Yay! And the reason for her mother being the way she is will be explained in time. And…that's all. Hope you enjoyed this eventful chapter!_


	7. Permission

_I am so, SO sorry that it's taken me this long to get a new chapter up. There are a thousand and one excuses I could give as to why, but you probably don't want to hear them. The two that mostly impacted my updating, or lack thereof, were a major case of writer's block and a severe loss of free time. And when I say writer's block, I don't mean just for this. I mean I couldn't write ANYTHING. But anyway. I'm sorry a million times over, and I hope you enjoy the unfolding drama!_

He turned down the corner of his newspaper and looked at her. She stood in the doorway to the parlor, looking oddly distressed. She was dressed rather nicely, in a dark blue sundress, which was also odd. She took a deep breath and spoke to them. "Good morning."

His wife barely noticed her. She merely continued to nurse her glass of scotch, though it was not yet ten in the morning. "I hope you've come to your senses about getting married."

Marietta took a step into the room. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"So you'll marry Abra." Without moving any other part of her body, Savannah turned her steeled blue eyes to match and meet her daughter's. They contained deep loathing, and an air of power. Andrew knew that look. She wanted her to squirm.

"I never said that." Marietta, astonishingly, leveled her mother's gaze with one of her own. "I said I wanted to talk about it."

"If you're not agreeing, then you've nothing to say worth listening to." Savannah threw her head back and swallowed her drink. Andrew cringed. She'd be drunk by noon at this rate. And then things would get very bad.

"You have to start listening to me sometime, Mother." She replied, calmly and controlled. "And what I'm saying now and have been saying is that I will not marry him."

"It's not your choice." Savannah poured herself another drink.

"Why is it yours?" Marietta asked. "Why is it always you who decides and never Father?" She turned to him. "What do you think?"

Andrew could feel his wife glaring at him, willing him to be silent. But he didn't want to be silent. He didn't want to force his daughter into something that would most likely kill her. It wasn't right. But he had no power, he could not tell her these things. All he could do was mumble "It's your mother's decision."

"And you will marry him." Savannah said haughtily. "End of discussion."

"Wrong." Marietta shot back. "It's not the end, it's not even the beginning." She stepped farther into the room.

"That's why Juliet was always better than you. She listened to her elders. And when she was told she had to get married, she obliged." Savannah said, contempt apparent in her voice.

Andrew saw his daughter falter at this statement. But she recovered quickly. "And now she's dead. I'm your daughter and I'm here. Don't compare me to her any longer."

"I wish you weren't."

Andrew closed his eyes, unable to watch. How could she say that? Worse yet, he knew that she meant it. This was no product of alcohol, this was real and true hate. She hated her child. He expected there to be noises to leaving, a sob, hurried footsteps out the door. But there were none.

What he heard, was his daughter's voice say, loudly and clearly, "Wish I wasn't what? Alive? Your daughter? Standing here?" There was no trace of sorrow, no hint of sadness. All that was in her voice was strength.

He opened his eyes as his wife replied, "All three."

And Andrew found himself saying, "Would you like to know why she feels that way?"

Two pairs of eyes swiveled to him and fixated on his face. Too late to go back. He shrugged off the glare and continued. "Twenty years ago, there was a pair of brothers. Sons of the leader of a great company, people with tremendous influence. Their sister, who was the middle child, had been happily married to a friend of the family for four years and had a three-year-old son. So the father of the brothers thought that it was time the young men took wives."

"Andrew." Savanna said, in a tone that meant for him to shut up and retreat behind his newspaper.

But he would do no such thing. "Their father chose a pair of sisters, daughters of a customer. Both girls were fairly pretty, and both brothers were fairly handsome. The men just had to decide which one to marry." Andrew paused, looking at Marietta. She was still standing straight and tall, but she seemed entranced with his tale. He pressed forward.

"Because the older brother would inherit the company and the title of Lord, both girls went for him, leaving the younger to take whichever one lost, regardless of their feelings for each other. The older brother picked the older sister, and they became happily wed. The younger couple was stuck together, forced into marriage. The young woman-"

"_Andrew_." Harsher this time, with more force.

"The young woman could not bear the fact that she had ended up with the lesser suit. So she took control over her new husband's life. He--he was too scared to stand up to her, to try to fight back. When the young woman became pregnant, she was…" He glanced at his daughter once more. This was going to hurt her far deeper than anything her mother had ever done. "…she was disgusted that she would be bearing this low life's child and…threw herself down the stairs in an attempt to kill it."

Marietta took a few steps back, covering her mouth. She stared wildly at her mother, who glared back at her. Andrew lowered his head, unable to look at her, and finished the story. "When the child was born, the mother ignored it completely, refused to feed it or have anything to do with it. The father however, despite his wife's feelings, loved the little girl dearly. He took care of her until she was five, when his wife forbade him to ever speak to the child again. Meanwhile, the siblings of the couple had a baby girl of their own, and the wife began to dote on it as if it were her own daughter. And the daughter grew up to feel unloved, while the other girl received all the attention from everyone."

"She was a real daughter, not the product of a coward." Savanna spat at him. "And it should have been me. I should have married him, instead of marrying you, you spineless little rat!"

Andrew ignored this, he'd been hearing it for twenty years. What he focused on, was that there was a young man standing with his daughter in their parlor. She was crying into the front of his shirt, and he was gently comforting her. Who was this man? Why was he here? The man moved slightly, Marietta was pulling away from him, wiping her eyes. Andrew had seen that face before. He recognized it in an instant. "Benvolio Montague."

There was a shatter of glass. Savanna was pale, her half-empty scotch glass now on the floor. "Why is there a Montague in my house?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Marietta, her eyes still red, laced her fingers through Benvolio's and turned to them. "Because we want to get married."

Silence. Andrew was trying to comprehend exactly what was going on. His daughter…wanted to marry this young man? A Montague? Not that he had anything against them really, but honestly. She could have picked someone, _anyone_ else. "You want to get married?"

"Yes." The young man spoke.

"I have to get married so my husband can become Lord Capulet. And Benvolio is becoming Lord Montague, so they'd really like it if he was married." Marietta explained.

"You want to _marry_ a _Montague_?" Savanna seemed to be having trouble understanding. "You want to marry into the family that killed Juliet!"

"Juliet killed herself." Marietta snapped. "Benvolio had nothing to do with it. And yes, we want to get married. We love each other." She paused, seeming to be weighing something in her mind. "And I'm pregnant."

Another stunned silence. Marietta didn't allow it to sink in before continuing. "It's against family traditions that a child be born out of wedlock, therefore you'd have to exile and disown me. Meaning you'd no longer have a Lady Capulet. No one else can take over. Also, tradition dictates that if a man gets a woman pregnant and they are not married, he must act as a gentleman and marry her." Marietta smirked triumphantly. "You lose. You _have_ to let us get married."

"So the child's yours, then?" Andrew asked, still trying to get his mind over the fact that his daughter was pregnant.

Benvolio nodded. "Yes, sir."

Savanna sat in her chair, her hands gripping the armrests. "You, your snake of a lover, and your _bastard child_ can all go to Hell." She hissed.

"If falling in love sends a person to Hell," Marietta stated, her eyes not leaving her mother's face. "Then Juliet is roasting down there this very minute."

Time seemed to slow for the next few minutes. Andrew watched in disbelief as his wife picked up the half-full bottle of Scotch from the table, and hurled it at their daughter's head. It flew through the air in slow motion, right on target. And at the very last second, before it hit, Benvolio pulled her out of the way. The bottle crashed to the floor, spraying alcohol and shards of glass everywhere. Time returned to it's normal speed.

Marietta stood, shell-shocked, not but two feet away from the remains of the bottle. She stared at it, then her mother. Savanna was fuming, giving Marietta a look that could shoot daggers. Andrew stood, unable to stand this any longer.

"When shall we set the date?"

"You…You're going to let us get married?" Marietta gaped at him.

His wife nearly fainted. "You're giving them permission! Are you out of your mind!"

He gazed at her calmly. "No, Savanna. For the first time in twenty years, I think I'm in it." With that, he walked forward and pulled his daughter into a hug. She didn't respond at first, but after a moment she returned his embrace.

"I'm sorry for not doing this sooner." He whispered.

"Thank you." She replied, her voice breaking.

Andrew held her as she cried. He was briefly aware of Savanna sending her looks of death to all of them and exiting the room. He also knew that Benvolio, his soon-to-be son-in-law, was hanging back. He probably wanted to hug his fiancée, to whoop and celebrate.

"I thought you didn't love me." Marietta said softly, her tears subsiding.

"From the minute the midwife placed you in my arms, I loved you." Andrew assured her, letting her go. She wiped her eyes, a smile spreading onto her face. "Now, someone else who loves you would probably like to talk with you."

Marietta turned to Benvolio, who was grinning. No words were spoken between the two, their kiss said it all.

* * *

It was decided that the wedding would be in two weeks, on November 27th. And the lover's days were spent doing a flurry of planning activities. They hardly saw each other, because though they were getting married, they both still had school and they could never find the time between everything to have a quiet moment alone. 

On this particular day, a week before the wedding, Marietta was having a dress fitting. She really didn't want to be doing it, but Lady Montague was in charge of plans because Marietta's family refused to have anything to do with her wedding. Well, her father tried to help out, but he was a man, so there wasn't much he could do. Luckily, Anna hated all of it as much as Marietta did and so had placed herself on her future daughter-in-law's side. And Bernadette, chosen maid-of-honor, was being carted around, for no other purpose than to provide moral support. (Though Lady Montague wanted her gone, due to Bern's habit of making sarcastic comments about everything)

Today, Marietta stood in the grand parlor of Anna's house, elevated on a stool as the gown designer measured her for the white monstrosity. She glanced at the spools of fabric strewn about the room, her stomach lurching at the very sight. She'd been dreading this day since the planning began. She wished there was more time before the wedding, but Lady Montague, her father, and even Anna agreed that it was best they got married before Marietta started to show. A long planning period would have been hard on Marietta, with her hormones going crazy and all, and, plus, Montagues and Capulets weren't supposed be set bad examples for the city. Marietta and Benvolio, apparently, were a bad example.

Getting married was supposed to make a person happy. Yet Marietta felt miserable.

"I think this design will look nice." Lady Montague commented, flipping through a selection of dress photos. Bernadette peered at the picture, then blanched. She stared at Marietta in horror. This certainly didn't make Marietta feel any better.

The designer looked it over, then cast her eye at Marietta, who gulped. "Yes, it covers her bony shoulders, and isn't too cinched at the waist, and the rounded skirt will hide her ankles."

Marietta looked down at her ankles. She didn't notice anything wrong with them, except a faint mark from where she'd cut it on the candlestick. That seemed so long ago. But it couldn't have been more than three months.

"I think it's disgusting." Bern commented, but was, as usual, ignored.

Anna tried to find some sort of reason for the design to be discarded. "But--her…her chest, it's…"

"Anna, you've never chosen a dress design." Lady Montague said in a voice she used every time someone tried to contradict one of her decisions. It was gentle, yet extraordinarily forceful. "I think you can trust my choice."

"Well, if you let me plan my son's wedding, I could choose." Anna replied, the so-called 'lawyer tone' creeping into her voice.

Lady Montague ignored that comment as well. Marietta bit her lip. "Um, could I see…?"

"Oh, of course." The book was handed to Marietta. She looked at the photo and froze. It was the ugliest dress she had ever seen. But the design suddenly didn't matter as she was sucked into the bright, cold color. She had to suppress a wave of emotion, as all the thoughts she'd had as she'd sat in the church and stared the red-speckled white flooded her mind.

"I--I can't wear this." She managed to say.

"Oh, don't be so picky. It's lovely." Lady Montague's voice floated somewhere in front of her.

"Yes, you will be a vision in white!" the designer clapped enthusiastically.

This was too much. She couldn't hold back what she'd felt for the past three months every time she looked at that color. She dropped the book, shaking her head, stepping off the stool. "I can't. I just can't."

"Marietta?" Anna's hand at her back was mildly reassuring.

"What on earth is the matter with this dress?" Lady Montague asked in a rather unkind tone.

"It's white!" Marietta almost shouted, the heels of her palms pressing against her eyes.

"Of course it is. It's a wedding gown." The designer said.

"She died in white."

A stunned silence hung in the air. Marietta tried to calm herself as she continued. "I know your family suffered a great loss. But so did mine. And that's why we're all here now. But please, remember how your son looked in his tomb. He wasn't covered in blood. My cousin, she had on a beautiful white dress. The blood--her blood--had stained it. It was everywhere, on her face, her neck, on that dress. You did not sit at a funeral and have the image of red on white burned into your mind forever. You did not begin to associate white, that pure color, with blood and death."

She stared at Lady Montague. "Please, do not make me wear white."

Anna placed a hand on Marietta's shoulder and gave her sister-in-law a pleading look. "Diane, sometimes you can have a perfect wedding and sometimes you can have a happy wedding. Not often can you have both. And given everyone's current situation, I would choose happy over perfect."

Lady Montague nodded slowly. "I understand." She turned to the designer. "Is there another color…?"

The designer looked Marietta over. "Pale blue would work, I should think."

"Another gown design would help, too." Bernadette chimed in.

Lady Montague picked up the book of designs and studied the chosen one. She looked from Marietta to the gown, then back to Marietta. "Perhaps it is a little…frilly."

"See? Compromise. It works every time." Anna smiled.

There was the sound of the front door opening and closing. "Ma, I'm home!" Benvolio called.

"You can't come in the parlor." Lady Montague stated.

There was silence from the entrance hall. "Why not?" he asked.

"You can't see the bride in her gown before the wedding." His aunt replied.

Marietta and Bernadette exchanged looks. She wasn't in the dress. The dress hadn't even been designed.

Another silence, then the sound of footsteps that stopped right in front of the door to the parlor. "Then can I just see the bride?"

Marietta looked hopefully at Anna. Lady Montague opened her mouth to argue, but Anna stopped her. "You have her measurements, you just need to choose a design. Let her go."

Marietta didn't wait to be excused, she ran out of the room and into his waiting arms.

"Hello." She breathed, feeling all her pent-up emotion ebb away as she embraced him.

"Hi." He smiled at her as they broke apart. "How's it going?"

She made a face. "I don't want to talk about it."

"So," He intertwined his fingers with hers. "I thought that the two of us needed a little getaway. How does a long walk on the beach sound?""

"Perfect." She replied as they left the house.

Later, Marietta would convince herself it was a servant of the household, or even a trick of the light from the setting sun. But at that moment, when walking down the large front steps and onto the wide driveway, she glanced at a parked car. And the cold, cruel, unforgiving eyes of Abra stared back at her through the window. Then she blinked--and they were gone. But the threat of his presence shadowed her mind until she went to sleep that evening.

But even then, he was watching.


	8. Assault

_I am soooo sorry for the long wait. I went through a HUGE writing slump. And...I just...kinda didn't want to write this chapter. But I have, and I hope it doesn't suck. Much. Don't worry, though, it's summer and I have plenty of time to work on the next chapter, so hopefully there won't be any more longwaits. Oh, and a good song to have playing in the background while reading this(or just in general, it's a really good song) is'Easy Tonight' by Five for Fighting. Enjoy the chappie!_

The darkness was penetrated by the glowing streetlight. She did not mind the dark, it was peaceful to be walking alone at night. Marietta bobbed her head to the quiet music playing on her headphones. She was on her way to meet Benvolio, who was at his bachelor party. It should be over by now, and so Marietta had decided to walk and meet him. There was never enough time for them to be alone. The wedding was two days away, and this made everyone go completely crazy planning-wise. Thank God it would soon all be over and she and Benvolio would have a lifetime to spend together.

Marietta was not far from the bar where Benvolio was, it was just around the corner now. She walked in front of an alley, completely unaware of the threat hiding in the shadows. A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, another clamped her mouth shut. Her headphones were knocked off her head. Her arm was twisted behind her back, she was held tight to someone.

"Hello, Marietta." Her eyes widened in fright as the voice whispered in her ear. She knew that voice all too well. She whimpered, her mind racing. What could she do to get out of this? How did he find her? If she called for help, would anyone hear?

"I can't leave you alone, can I?" Abra hissed. "The minute my back is turned, you go and become _engaged_ to the Montague bastard." There was anger in his voice now, and he tightened his hold. "You are mine. I'll teach you to remember that."

He released her, but before she had a chance to run away, he hit her across the face. The blow caused her to stumble, fall to her knees. She had to get away.

She had paused for too long. He kicked her side, and she fell to the ground, unable to breathe. He raised his foot to kick her again, but she scrambled away, gasping for breath. He grabbed her around the waist and yanked her to her feet, one arm snaking around her neck, the other holding her close to him.

"You whore." He tightened his grip on her neck. "You filthy, lying, disgusting _whore_."

She managed to wiggle an arm free and elbow him in the stomach. He lessened his grip on her, enough for her to run to the alley opening. She almost clear, just a few more steps--

A force from behind knocked her to the ground. Her head hurt, her vision blurred from a moment. She could tell from the weight on her back that Abra had straddled her. "I'll admit, I expected more of a fight from you. But you've never been a match for me." He reached for her arms, and tied them behind her back with some rope. "Marriage is difficult to gain at this point, so I will just have to take what I can get."

He turned her over onto her back, her arms pressed uncomfortably beneath her. She noticed that while the rope was tight, it was not tied securely. He had been in too much of a hurry to worry about that. She now had a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could free herself. She tried to move her hands. But that was impossible. He sat firmly on her hips, her arms were immobile beneath her. Her hands were pressed too hard into the ground for her to try and untie the knot. It was useless. She was doomed.

He leaned close to her face, his eyes searching her maliciously. One hand undid the button of her jeans, the other covered her mouth. "No one can hear you scream." He whispered.

With one last attempt to free herself, she bit his hand. He yelled in pain, pulling it away. She threw all her strength, hope, and prayers into her cry.

"_BENVOLIO!" _

And then Abra hit her across the face, and covered her mouth with duct tape. She lost all will to fight back. She could not save herself. She could only pray that someone, anyone, had heard her scream.

* * *

Benvolio laughed as he bid his brothers good-bye. He left the bar, intoxicated with more happiness than alcohol. He stood a moment under the glow of the streetlight, thinking about what his future held. In two days he would marry the woman of his dreams. Before Marietta, he always thought his wedding would be forced upon him, and he would not be enthusiastic or even remotely optimistic about it. But now…he would soon pledge eternal faithfulness to a woman he loved more than life itself. And in approximately seven months time, she would give birth to their child.

He had never been more happy in his entire life.

That happiness was quickly shattered by a piercing scream through the night.

"_BENVOLIO!"_

He recognized the voice at once as Marietta's, and immediately panicked. Where was she? What was wrong? Why had she screamed? He stood a moment, unsure of where the scream had come from or what he should do.

And then, a sudden realization came to him like a kick in the head: Abra.

And Benvolio ran, as fast as he could, shouting her name into the night.

"Marietta! Marietta, where are you!"

He ran down the street, and tripped over a CD player and headphones discarded on the ground in front of an alley. Stumbling, he saw in the darkness the outline of bodies in the alley. He caught himself, and stepped into the alley, terrified of what he may find.

He saw Abra, straddled over Marietta.

The bastard was going to _rape_ his wife.

The _hell_ if Benvolio was going to let that happen.

Earlier that evening, when Benvolio was about to head out for his party, he had contemplated bringing his gun. True, the feud was definitely over, and there would be no real reason for him to have it. But even fair Verona had it's muggers and murderers, and most would consider themselves lucky to find the heir to the Montague estates alone and unarmed at night. So he had tucked the gun in it's holster beneath his shirt, for more of a safety precaution than anything.

He was incredibly glad of that decision now.

He pulled it out and pointed it at Abra. "Get away from her."

Abra looked up and had the nerve to smile. "Well, well. The knight in shining armor has arrived."

"Get away from her!" Benvolio repeated, louder and, to his dismay, slightly more panicked.

He stood up and placed one foot on Marietta's chest, keeping her from moving. She squirmed but he held her fast beneath her. "If you knew what was good for you, Montague, you would have ended this affair long ago."

"And you should have left her alone! She doesn't love you!" He couldn't help the last four words escaping his lips. They had haunted his mind since the first time Abra had confronted him, in an alley much like this one. He had always wanted to grab Abra by the collar and shake him, and scream those words. Part of him had hoped that that would be enough to persuade Abra to leave her be.

But he had always known Abra was not a man who loved.

To prove this, Abra gave an evil laugh. "Love? You think _love_ has anything to do with this?" He laughed again. "I don't give a damn about love, I don't even care if this woman hates me. It's not about the way she or I _feel_. It's about power. It's about money. It's about a deal Tybalt and I made. I intend to get my half of the bargain. And this…" He bent down and trailed his fingers along Marietta's body. "…this is my half."

Benvolio wanted to kill him. He wanted to shoot him, he wanted to hit him, he wanted to scream in rage and make that man feel every ounce of pain he had ever dealt to her. It was all he could do not to strangle him then and there.

"I swear to God," Benvolio said through clenched teeth. "If you don't get away from her I will kill you."

Abra pulled a gun from his back pocket and pointed it at Benvolio. "I warned you long ago, Montague, that I am powerful. I get what I want. And I swear, if you don't leave now and let me do what I was promised I could do, I will kill you."

"Unless he left in his will the right for you to sleep with her, which I seriously doubt, then that promise expired the day Tybalt died." Benvolio narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.

"Promises made in blood are not to be broken." Abra cocked his gun. "Unless you want to die, I suggest you leave now."

"I will not let you hurt her!" Benvolio shouted. "I have stood by and watched you harm her, and I refuse to do it any longer!"

He glanced at Marietta and noticed she was moving slightly. Abra's pressure on her had become increasingly lax since he had started talking. It appeared to Benvolio that she was trying to untie herself. Abra didn't notice, he was too busy trying to kill him.

"I love her, and I would rather die trying to save her then walk away knowing what you were going to do to her!" Benvolio cried, knowing this would egg Abra on and give Marietta a little more time to free herself.

"Then you have chosen death!" Abra proclaimed.

He was about to pull the trigger, when Marietta reached up and grabbed his leg, her bonds untied. He cried out in shock and looked down at her. She let go and rolled over, catching Abra off-balance, and threw him off her. He fell to the ground, his gun flying through the air, and she quickly stood up and kicked him.

She pulled the duct tape off her mouth. "I hope you rot in Hell!" she spat, taking a few steps back from him.

He grabbed his gun, sat up and pointed it at her. "You'll get there before I do, bitch."

"Marietta!" Benvolio shouted. "Run!"

She spun around and raced towards him. Abra got to his feet and, before Benvolio could do anything, pulled the trigger.

_BANG!_

* * *

Marietta ran. She'd heard the gunshot. She was not hurt. He had shot Benvolio. Her mind formed incoherent thoughts, but one stuck with her. Get away. Get help. Get away. Get help. So she ran, out of the alley, up the street to the corner with the streetlight. She recalled the bar there, and threw open the door. She stumbled in, aware of tears streaming down her face. The bartender and patrons stared at her.

"Help!" she cried. "Please, help me! He's been shot! Help, please, he's shot, he could be dead, oh please, please, help me, oh God, he was shot, oh God, oh God…" She fell to her knees, babbling.

A hand grabbed her elbow. She screamed, it had to be Abra, he'd followed her, he was going to kill her--

It was Sampson. "Oh my God, Marietta, what happened?"

"Benvolio!" she clutched the front of his shirt. "He was shot, oh God, Abra…" she couldn't talk anymore, she could only sob.

Sampson was pale. "Holy shit." He looked around wildly. "Somebody call 911!"

"The bartender's already on the phone." A woman at the bar said.

Gregory walked out of the men's room. He stared at the scene. "What the hell…?"

"Ben's been shot!" Sampson told him, pulling Marietta to her feet.

The woman from the bar walked over. "I'm a nurse, I can help." She turned to Marietta. "Honey, where is he?"

"In the alley…" Marietta choked out. "Down the street…"

"Let's go." The woman took Marietta from Sampson and gently led her out of the bar and down the street, Sampson and Gregory following behind.

Marietta didn't want to look into the alley. She didn't want to see him dead. The woman handed Marietta back to Sampson, then walked over to the body. She examined him gently.

And then, the sweetest sound Marietta had ever heard echoed through the alley. The body groaned.

"Benvolio!" She cried, running to him and kneeling beside him. "You're alive!"

"Shot in the shoulder." The nurse said, taking off her sweater. "We need to apply pressure to the wound."

"I can do that." Marietta took the woman's sweater and placed over the wound, pressing hard to stop the flow of blood.

"Marietta…" he whispered.

"I'm here, I'm here." She caressed his cheek, unable to keep from crying. "Just rest. You'll be okay. I love you, it's all alright."

And she sat with him, listening to the tinny music and applying pressure, telling him it was alright and they would all be okay, and crying in terror and relief until the ambulance pulled up.

* * *

Marietta leaned her head against the wall, allowing her eyes to flutter closed. She was so tired. She sat outside Benvolio's room in the hospital, waiting for the nurses to let her in to see him. She had already been examined by a doctor, who had mercifully told her that the child was alright. She protectively lay a hand on her stomach, thanking God that she, Benvolio and their child were safe and sound.

"Marietta!"

She looked up to see her father and Benvolio's parents running towards her. "Oh my God," Anna cried when she reached her. "Are you alright? Is Benny alright? How's the baby? Have you spoken to any doctrors?"

"Anna, sweetheart." Her husband, Christopher, put his arm around her shoulders. "Calm down, love. You'll send her back into shock."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Anna shook her head. "I just--The police said there was both attempted rape and attempted murder and that we should get here as soon as possible. We didn't know anything else. Oh, God." She leaned against her husband, breathing heavily.

"Oh, Marietta, thank God." Her father pulled her into a hug. "I thought something horrible had happened."

"I'm okay." She reassured him and the others. "Just a little bruised. And the baby is fine. I--I don't know about Benvolio, though. I got to the hospital after he did, the police wanted to speak with me about what had happened. I've been sitting here for…I don't know how long. He was shot in the shoulder, so it's not life threatening." She swallowed. "I think."

Just then, the door opened. They all turned to see the doctor stepping out of the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Montague?"

"Yes?" Anna replied, stepping forward.

"Your son is fine." The doctor told them.

"Oh, thank God." Anna cried in relief, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"He was shot in the shoulder. The bullet went straight through, hitting only muscle. We bandaged it and gave him painkillers. We'll keep him overnight, and most of tomorrow too, if possible. He did keep muttering about a wedding."

"Yes," Marietta told him. "Our wedding's in two days."

"One, actually." Christopher said, mostly to himself. "It's one in the morning."

"Well, he should be up and about by then. He'll probably need to have his arm in a sling, which may inhibit dancing at the reception, but you two should be able to get married without any problems." The doctor smiled at her.

"Thank you." She replied, grinning. "Can I see him?"

"Yes, he's awake, but only just." The doctor opened the door behind him.

Marietta stepped into the room. She immediately became aware of the hum of machinery, and faint music playing on a radio. Benvolio lay on the bed, a large bandage wrapping over his shoulder and across most of his chest. He turned his head slightly to look at her. His smile was weak, but genuine. "Marietta."

"Hey, love." She sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand in hers. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." He closed his eyes. "But I can stay awake for you."

She smiled, but her eyes welled up with tears. She felt incredibly guilty for him getting shot. If he hadn't come to her rescue, it wouldn't have happened. "I hear you won't be able to show off your moves at the wedding."

"Yeah," He frowned, his eyes opening. "And I was gonna challenge Sam to a dance-off too." He saw that she looked a little upset and squeezed her hand. "Marietta, I'm sorry about the dancing. I know you and Bern had this perfect song picked out."

She scooted closer to him. "It doesn't matter to me. You're alive, I could care less if we danced at our wedding." She looked down at their hands. "It's all my fault you're hurt."

He stared at her. "Don't even say that. It's not your fault at all. You didn't shoot me, Abra did." He reached up and pushed her hair out of her face. "Marietta, listen to me. I would rather have a bullet wound than have you hurt by him. You mean the world to me. I would gladly sacrifice myself to keep you safe."

She gently kissed him. "You know I love you, right?"

Benvolio smiled sleepily. "I know." Marietta gently lay down beside him. He held her close with his good arm. "And I love you."

Marietta closed her eyes. She felt his chest rise and fall, her tiredness returning. She was tired from the whole ordeal, the worry, the shock, the relief. She heard the soft music playing in the background and relaxed, sighing in content. She wanted to spend forever like this, lying here in his arms.

Forgetting about Abra, and the wedding, and the adults outside, and everything else in the world, she fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.


	9. Unity

_I'm really sorry that this took so long. My life got kinda bad and it took me a long time to crawl out of the hole I had curled up in. It was also very hard for me to write this chapter, for some reason, and I'm still not completely happy with it. The song used is 'No Matter What' by Boyzone, which I believe is originally from an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. I also borrowed a line from 'Thank Goodness', from the musical Wicked. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!_

"Because happy is what happens when all your dreams come true…" Bernadette sang softly, adjusting the skirt on Marietta's gown.

Marietta stared at herself in the mirror. Before her eyes was someone completely different. There was a woman there, a woman whose gaze was long and steady. A woman who seemed ready for anything that could possibly happen. Marietta didn't know who that woman was. She certainly didn't feel like that woman. She felt like…well, like eighteen-year-old who was getting married before she was ready. Perhaps people in her family married young, but that seemed to be a cause of problems. True, it wasn't arranged, and she believed that Benvolio loved her. But she was young, young and pregnant and maybe rushing headfirst into something that, as right as it felt, might not really be right at all.

What was she thinking? This was crazy! She wanted this, she wanted Benvolio, she wanted a life with him. But that idiotic fear was still there. That fear that right around the corner was Death himself, ready to tear them apart just as they had their cousins. Maybe it wasn't so idiotic, after what had happened two nights ago. That had scared her out of her wits. The thought of losing him…was unfathomable. She still felt silly, though.

She took a deep breath and stood up straight. Today was a happy day, a day that should not have any bad thoughts or feelings floating around. …Then again, her mother wasn't even bothering to show up. She sighed, deflating. Bad thoughts and feeling were inescapable.

Bernadette hugged her around the shoulders. "Hey you, why the solemn face?"

Marietta frowned slightly. "Nothing, just…wedding jitters, I guess." She looked down at her dress. "I'm still a little shook up from what happened. I mean…" She looked back up at herself in the mirror. The woman was still there. Where was the scared girl she felt like? "What if everything goes wrong?"

"What's everything?" Bern asked, moving to fix Marietta's hair.

"What if Abra crashes the wedding?" She turned to face her friend. "What if we fell in love too fast and we hate each other in a year? What if something happens to the baby? What if…" she shrugged, feeling helpless. "What if love really isn't enough?"

Bernadette gave her a look of sympathy. "Marietta, what if this wedding is fabulous? What if you and Benvolio have an amazing child and live happily ever after?" She turned Marietta back around. "Now stop with the negativity. You're getting married!"

"I feel like I belong in Four Weddings and a Funeral." Marietta muttered.

"Well, we already had the funeral. That just leaves the weddings. And you're number one, so forget about all the 'what ifs' and lighten up!" Bernadette exclaimed. "Honestly, Marietta, you love this man. And he loves you. There's no what ifs about it."

Marietta smiled. "I suppose you're right."

There was a knock on the door. The two girls exchanged glances. They had no idea who it could be. The entire wedding party had come to the Montague mansion earlier this morning. It had been strategically arranged so that, barring any accidents, Benvolio and Marietta wouldn't see each other until the wedding. The men were busy taking care of that and getting themselves ready. And the women had left the bride and maid of honor alone about fifteen minutes ago, and had said they wouldn't return for at least three-quarters of an hour. So they girls had no idea who it could be.

"Uh…Ma? You in there?" It was Sampson.

Bernadette froze and a strange look passed over her face. Then she straightened up and discreetly checked herself in the mirror. Marietta raised her eyebrows and wondered for a moment what was going on.

"She's not in here." Marietta called.

"Oh. Damn." Sampson sounded slightly dejected. "I need her help."

"With what?" Bern asked, her cheeks visibly brightening.

"I can't do my tie." He replied.

"Oh, I can do that for you." Bern said. She turned to Marietta. "Zip me up!" she hissed.

Marietta instantly complied, beginning to get an inkling of why Bern might be acting the way she was. Bern checked herself in the mirror again, then opened the door.

Sampson walked in, looking very sharp except for his tie, which was hanging in a sad knot around his neck. His eyes scanned Bernadette and—was he blushing too? Bern made a clucking sound and quickly undid his tie. She wasn't looking at him.

Marietta decided to test her theory. "Hey Sampson."

He didn't even glance at her. "Hey." He was staring intently at Bernadette, who was now tying the tie.

Marietta grinned to herself. She was right. Something was definitely going on between those two.

Bernadette gave a nod. "There." Her arms dropped to her sides and she shyly looked down at her feet.

He looked at himself in the mirror and grinned. "Thanks!" He turned to Bernadette. "You're a lifesaver."

Bern shrugged, seeming noncommittal, but her face got a bit redder. "No problem. Just a tie."

"Well…" Sampson glanced around awkwardly. "I…guess I should be going. I'm the best man and all."

"See ya at the church." Bern replied, about to close the door as he walked out. Their eyes locked for a moment and then—Bern looked down and shut the door. She turned around and leaned against the door.

Marietta tried to stop smiling, but it was impossible. "You like him!"

Bernadette sighed. "Yeah…" She went over to the vanity and started to apply some make up.

"Bern!" Marietta fought hard to control the squealing teenage girl inside her. "Tell me everything! When did you realize you liked him? Have you done anything?"

Bernadette laughed and motioned for her friend to come over. "Sit down and let me fix your hair." After Marietta complied, Bern started brushing it. "When Benvolio asked us to play at the Halloween party, we had to go and audition for his mom. And Sampson was there."

"Go on…" Marietta nodded.

"Well--I dunno, he just sat there with his mom and Lady Montague and watched us." Bern shook her head, chuckling. "He's _adorable_, Mari. A-dor-a-ble."

"His nose is a little too pointy." Marietta commented.

"His nose is perfect!" Bernadette said, spritzing Marietta's hair with some hair spray for emphasis. "Anyway, after we auditioned he came over and started talking to us. He said we sounded good, and that he was glad Ben had found us."

"I found you too!" Marietta added.

"I told him that." Bern continued. "And so then at the party he helped us set up, and break down, and he was so much fun to hang out with…He's funny, in an odd way. We talked a lot at the party. I guess that's when I fell for him."

"Ah, Bern, that's so exciting!" Marietta exclaimed.

"I think you're a bit too excited about this." Bern commented, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Marietta shrugged. "You're the only friend I've ever had, besides Juliet. And Juliet was too young to talk about boys." She looked down at her hands. "If she had told me about Romeo, I would've been this excited for her, too."

"There's nothing really to be excited about. We've only interacted a couple times…and anyway, I don't think he likes me." Bernadette sighed again. "Your hair's done."

"Doesn't like you?!" Marietta whirled around, her hair nearly falling out of the bun Bern had arranged it in. "Did you see how he was looking at you?! He's crazy about you!"

Bern frowned. "If you say so." She shooed Marietta out of the chair. "I need to do my hair."

Marietta moved, sighing. Maybe Bern didn't believe her, but she knew she was right. Sampson looked at Bern the same way Benvolio looked at Marietta. Maybe to a lesser degree, but that love was there. And if she had to make Ben push his brother into asking their friend out, then she would. There was a chance for a future there, and Marietta would be damned if that window of opportunity closed.

The door opened and the woman returned. The room was a flurry of activity as Anna and her sister-in-law raced around, putting the finishing touches on everyone. Within moments, Marietta and Bern were hustled out of the room, out of the house, and into the waiting car.

"The boys are already on their way." Anna told them, as they began the drive to the church. She grabbed Marietta's hand. "You ready?"

Marietta smiled shakily. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"I was so nervous on my wedding day." Anna stared out the window, remembering. "I was a nobody before Christopher met me. Just a law student, and then suddenly the younger brother of Lord Montague took an interest in me and I was headline news. The press covered the wedding, I was so afraid I would trip walking down the aisle or something."

"Well, the press is covering this wedding too." Lady Montague mentioned. "Being that it is a union between Montagues and Capulets. A large step in the right direction."

Marietta's eyes widened. She hadn't even thought about the press. Bernadette frowned, knowing what was running through her head. "Don't pay any attention to the press." She told her friend, squeezing her hand.

They arrived at the church. As Lady Montague had said, there were cameramen lining the steps into the cathedral, waiting for her to arrive. It was a regular red-carpet affair. Marietta took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then opened the door and stepped out.

Immediately flashes began going off. She froze, worry flooding her mind once again. Anna took her arm and guided her up the steps and into the church. Marietta found she could breath again as she entered the peaceful silence inside the chapel walls.

Her father was waiting for her. He smiled at the sight of her. "Oh, sweetheart, you look beautiful."

She blushed and smiled shyly. "Thank you."

"Alright, the ceremony's about to begin. Don't worry about a thing." Anna hugged Marietta and whispered into her ear. "You are the daughter I never had. I am so glad to have you in our family."

Marietta blinked back tears as Anna pulled away. "And you're the mother I wish I had." She told the woman.

Anna smiled, her eyes welling up as well. "Okay. Well…" she handed Marietta off to her father. "I'll go sit down now." She left, Lady Montague following her.

Marietta slipped her arm into her father's. He patted her hand. "You're going to be fine."

She looked up at him. Maybe her mother was too stubborn to be here, but her father was. Her father loved and cared for her. And she was glad to have him here with her. "I love you, Daddy." She said quietly.

"Oh, Mary…" He hugged her close. "I love you, too."

The organ began to play. "You ready?" her father whispered. She nodded. And with that, they walked out and began their way down the aisle.

* * *

Later that night, as Marietta tried to fall asleep in the airplane seat, her head resting on Benvolio's shoulder, she would play the whole day over in her mind. She would remember the moment they said 'I do' and that even though she was so nervous she could hardly stand, she couldn't stop smiling.

She would remember the speeches, but most importantly she would remember Sampson's, smiling. He had given a comical speech, making fun of his brother and, once again quoting 'The Lion King'. And then, at the end of it, he had taken a deep breath and said, "And, if I may now use this microphone for a small personal detail…" He turned towards the other end of the table, where Bernadette sat next to Marietta. "Bernadette O'Malley." She stared at him, shocked. "Would you please go out with me?"

She stared at him, then burst into a fit of giggles. "Yes!" she managed to choke out. "Yes, I will!"

Sampson grinned in relief and handed over the microphone to someone else, while everyone applauded.

"And you thought he didn't like you." Marietta told her friend.

Bern ducked her head shyly. "Well, everyone's wrong sometimes."

Benvolio leaned closer to Marietta. "You have no idea how long it took me to get him to do that."

The reception went on, with Bern and her sisters climbing onto the platform to play music for everyone to dance to. After about an hour of playing, she made an announcement.

"Now, if everyone would please clear the floor, the groom has a song he would like to sing." She handed to microphone over to Benvolio, who walked into the middle of the floor.

"The original plan was for me and my wonderful new wife to dance to something together, but…" He looked down at his arm in a sling. "I had a slight accident. So, I decided to sing instead. And since I'm not much of a singer, there are earplugs you can get from my brothers."

He grinned as the girls began to play music. Marietta stood on the edge of the dance floor, smiling at him. He started to sing.

_"No matter what they tell us, no matter what they do, no matter what they teach us, what we believe is true. No matter what they call us, however they attack, no matter where they take us, we'll find our own way back."_

Marietta slowly began to walk out onto the floor, swaying slightly in time with the music.

_"I can't deny what I believe, I can't be what I'm not. I know our love's forever, I know no matter what."_

He looked at her, and she knew that every word he sang was true. She smiled at him, and he continued on.

_"If only tears were laughter, if only night was day, if only prayers were answered, then we would hear God say: No matter what they tell you, no matter what they do, no matter what they teach you, what you believe is true."_

She reached him, and placed her hand gently on his arm in the sling. She smiled up at him as he stared into her eyes, singing only for her.

_"And I will keep you safe and strong, and shelter from the storm. No matter where it's barren, a dream is being born. No matter who they follow, no matter where they lead, no matter how they judge us, I'll be everything you need."_

He held the microphone out to her. "Would you like to add a few words?"

She shook her head. "No, but I'll sing with you."

He grinned and continued on, her voice now blending with his.

"_No matter is the sun don't shine, or if the skies aren't blue. No matter what the ending, my life began with you. I can't deny what I believe, I can't be what I'm not. I know this love's forever…I know, no matter what."_

The on-lookers applauded as the song ended and the couple shared a kiss.

The rest of the reception was wonderful. After it ended, the couple returned to his house, to change and then to get to the airport to catch their flight to Greece.

In the present, on the airplane, Benvolio was still humming their song. Marietta snuggled closer to him, sighing in content. "Thank you." She breathed.

"For what?" he kissed her forehead gently.

"For loving me. For letting me love you. For being my husband." She shivered at that word, she still could hardly believe they were actually married.

"You're very welcome, Mrs. Montague." He replied, lacing his fingers through hers.

"Hmm, only to you. The rest of the world shall know me as Lady Capulet." She murmured. It was true, she had to keep her family name since she needed to be the Lady.

"Well how about the little Montague then?"

"The little _Capulet_-Montague, you mean."

He shook his head. "You darn Capulets, ruining our good name."

She whapped him gently. "_Your_ good name? What about mine?"

"Whatever the name--you are my wife, carrying our child." He rested his head against hers. "We're a family now."

"Hmm." She closed her eyes. "Will we be together forever?"

"Forever and day, my love." He sighed in content. "Forever and a day."


End file.
